


How Many Secrets Can You Keep?

by Pisces21Red



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: A bit nicer Mickey, Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Arguments, Blonde Mickey, Caught, Daddy Mickey, Defensive Mickey, Dirty Talk, Embarrassed Mickey, Explicit Sexual Content, Fighting, Happens A Few Years After 4x12, Horny Ian, Intersex, Intersex Mickey, Jealous Ian, M/M, Mickey (tiny bit OOC), Oral Sex, Possesive Ian, Secret Discovery, Secrets (Some more serious than others), Sickness (But Not With Ian), Spoilers, Squirting, Step-Daddy Ian (Sort Of), Svetlana and Mickey tolerate one another, Though Ian is still Bipolar; his medications help significantly, Vaginal Sex (Not of a female)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1461907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pisces21Red/pseuds/Pisces21Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey go to Ian's house for some sexual relief, however right at the height of Mickey's climax, some unexpected company appears who witness something surprising.</p><p>On the other hand, the Gallagher family receive some potentially devastating news about one of their own.</p><p>Later, some come to realize the disastrous results of their irresponsible actions and it becomes evident that some secrets just can't stay hidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You sure nobody’s going to be home for a while, Gallagher?”

Mickey asks as Ian nearly drags him up the stairs to Ian’s shared room with Carl and Liam. Despite the fact that their relationship with one another was a well known fact throughout possibly the entirety of Chicago by now, Mickey sure as fuck didn’t need any one of Ian’s siblings to come busting in when they were both about to cum out of their fucking minds.

Mickey especially wanted total privacy because of the absolute “fuck-fest”, as Mickey likes to call it regardless of Ian’s constant protests to not call his “gift” that (something about being inter- something whatever), going on downstairs.

Which is actually why he was uncertain about wanting to fuck at the Gallagher’s house anyway because of Firecrotch’s siblings’ tendencies to just bust into any room without thought; there was no way in hell that anyone besides his mother and Ian would ever know about his anatomy, and his mother is dead, so now it’s just him and one other person that is privy to what’s below Mickey’s belt, and it’s going to stay that way.

But Ian was very convincing. With those blue-green fucking eyes of his and the ridiculous pout placed upon those thin, yet very talented lips. Mickey had cursed silently in his head when looking at Ian at that time because years ago he would have just told Firecrotch to ‘Fuck off’ and do it his way. But after that whole Bipolar fiasco and him sticking by Ian through all of the up’s and down’s, doctor visits, ass loads of different prescriptions, assholes in the streets of Chicago giving them shit because of their love for one another, Mickey knew that he could trust Ian.

Not to mention, the near 8 months that he and Ian both suffered through without remotely any type of sexual activity due to Ian’s medication fucking up his hormones. Though one day Ian smashed a glass against a wall in anger that his boyfriend had to suffer because of his disease, claiming that they were going to “…find some fucking meds that will get my dick hard and me in the mood enough that we can both fuck until the walls of the fucking house falls down around us”, which at that point Mickey put up no argument and acquiesced quickly.

So, here they were in Ian’s shared room, ripping each other’s clothes off in a frenzy, Ian kicking the door shut behind him and Mickey pulling him towards the bed. Once fully naked, clothes spread out all around the bedroom floor; they proceeded to eat each other’s mouths like they were starving for something that only the other could possibly give.

“Mmmm, shit Gallagher, what’s gotten into you?” Mickey huffed out once Ian gave him the opportunity to suck in some air, giving him the incentive to begin placing wet, open mouthed kisses down the column of his lover’s pale, deceitfully soft, neck.

Mickey moaned out towards the ceiling and wrapped one arm around the back of Ian’s neck, the hand going up to his buzz cut, fire red hair and clenching tightly in pleasure.

“Your fucking ass in those jeans I bought you looked amazing,” Ian confessed, moving up to steady himself on his arms and push his way between Mickey’s milky, white thighs, “and you didn’t even realize that some dickheads in the bar were staring at it like it was a piece of fucking meat.”

Mickey drew his hands up and down Ian’s strong and muscled back, loving how he’s filled out even more over the years because of his frequent visits to the gym as well as him still staying faithful to his 5 A.M. runs.

“You shittin’ me? You jealous over a couple of old ass guys who waste away their pathetic lives thinking about why they can’t get a decent looking girl by staring into the bottom of empty bottles and cups?” Mickey looked at Ian, with his eyebrow cocked in disbelief yet his mouth twisted in that characteristic smirk of his.

“Fuck no,” Ian pushed himself further down the bed and settles comfortably between Mickey’s bent legs, bringing his fingers to his boyfriend’s slit, placed directly beneath Mickey’s cock. “I know they’ll never even get within 5 feet of you because if you don’t fuck them up, I sure as hell will be there to do the job for you.”

“ _Sssss_ …okay tough guy,” Mickey hisses out when Ian begins rubbing his fingers gently in a circle over his moist opening, “Says the one who worked at a club full of fat, chubby, old faggots just waiting to slap their ball sacks against his chin and ass.”

“You know what I’m gonna do to ya’ Mick?” Ian asked, ignoring Mick’s last vulgar comment as he places a few kisses on Mickey’s inner thighs, still tortuously rubbing Mickey’s clit at a slow and teasing pace. “I’m going to eat the fuck out of your pink, pussy, eat it until your legs shake and you _cum_ all over my fucking face.”

At those last few words, Ian leaned up towards Mickey’s ear, and gave it a hot lick and kiss, and whispered, “Are you ready for that?”

This side of Ian severely turned Mickey on to the point where he could feel his slick beginning to slide down to his ass crack. Mickey loved it when Ian turned into this possessive, horny, demon, dirty talking in his ear to the point where he squirts without being touched, just with the assistance of Ian’s nasty words playing into his head, which has only happened once.

“Fuck yea, I’m so ready for that fucking tongue of yours. You gonna drink it all down once I make a mess all over that sexy face of yours?” Mickey brings his own fingers down to spread his juices all around his pussy lips, moaning out at the friction, aided by his slightly calloused fingers.

“Oh shit, of course, baby…you look so fucking good right now.”

“‘Ay, well let’s get to it then ginger snaps.”

Ian gave Mickey a devilish smirk once he called him that nickname and quickly moved his head so he hovered above Mickey’s tight-looking opening. He admired the soft, downy hairs surrounding his mound and how well-trimmed and clean he keeps it down there. Ian brings one hand up to Mickey’s hard cock, and lightly strokes it, but Mickey soon slaps his hand away in annoyance, silently telling him to get on with it. Ian always knew from the beginning of when they first started to fuck that Mickey was severely self-conscious about his dick.

Though it was a bit on the small side, erect at only 4 inches, Ian adored it and would sometimes suck him off while fingering his pussy or sometimes his asshole, constantly putting pressure on the respective g-spots, making Mickey feel cherished and satisfied. Despite the fact that no real amount of sperm can exactly come out because of his lack of balls, Ian loved it all the same, but his boyfriend still became shy about it.

Lowering his head towards the lips, Ian gave it a slow lick from bottom to top, getting a low groan out of Mickey and his hands coming down to hold onto Ian’s head.

“Goddammmn…fuck, do that shit again, Ian.”

Ian does so and begins to slowly pick up the pace, burrowing his face even further between Mickey’s legs, licking and sucking Mickey’s clit with enthusiasm.

“Mmm, _sssss_ , fuck _yes_ that feels so damn gooooodd,” Mickey moans out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure. “Eat that _fucking_ cunt.”

Ian looks up at Mickey’s facial expression and the sight gets his dick impossibly harder, the pre-cum at the tip leaking slowly, yet steadily onto the bedspread beneath them. He gets an idea that he knows drives Mick crazy and he puts it into full force; he _hums_ while his lips are fastened to Mickey’s swollen, red, clit.

Mickey lets out a scream and arches his back up off of the bed in utter ecstasy, his toes curling against Ian’s back, thighs shuddering around Ian’s ears.

“Ooooohhh, shit, shit, Iaaannnnn.” Ian just hums a bit longer, but then moves back to the opening of his lover’s cunt and licks sloppily around, all the while still humming, sending glorious vibrations throughout Mickey’s taut body.

“Mmmhmmm,” he hums as he forays his tongue into the canal, getting the lower half of his face completely wet, courtesy of Mickey’s soaking wet pussy, leaking like a goddamn water fountain. He then pulls back to suck in a breath, “Yea, you like this don’t you?”

“Uh-huh, whatever get your tongue back in my cunt, Gallagher.” Mickey demanded impatiently, pushing Ian’s face back towards his sopping pussy, blocking out Ian’s chuckles and his statement of how he has a pushy bottom for a boyfriend.

As Ian continues his eating, Mickey lies back against the bed, head tilted back against the pillows, face completely flushed, unabashedly moaning Ian’s name out loud, sometimes followed by garbled versions of expletives. He felt himself getting closer and closer to orgasm, so he ventured the hand that wasn’t holding onto Ian’s head for dear life, to his clit and used his fingers to furiously rub and twist at it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuccckkkk, that’s it, baby, a little bit mooorrrree-“

“Ian, what the fuck?!” Fiona Gallagher shrieks out, but soon realizes that her exclamation is thundered out by Mickey’s loud and frantic yelling, as well as the sound of wet slaps due to Mickey’s hand working over his clit and Ian’s tongue making the most obscene noises that would make even a professional Pornstar blush. Lip, standing behind her with Mandy, pulls Debbie, Carl and Liam away from the scene, telling them to go downstairs.

“ _Hey_!!” Fiona yelled, banging on the open door to get their attention, to which Ian snaps his head up from between Mickey’s quivering legs and turns his head with wide-eyes towards the doorway, making eye contact with his pissed off, yet shocked older sister.

“Shit!” Ian blurts out and looks down at Mickey, who was still rubbing his clit, so close to falling over the precipice as the result of the oncoming mind-blowing orgasmic high that he’s about to experience. Ian tries to get Mick’s attention by tapping his leg, but he’s so far gone in his intense pleasure.

Gasps of surprise come from Fiona, Mandy and Veronica, who just came over to the Gallagher’s house with Kevin in tow, to drop her twins off to play with them, when she heard the commotion upstairs, while twin exclamations of “Holy shit!”’s came from Ian and Lip, and the one typical saying of “Holy fuck!” came from Kevin, when they saw Mickey Milkovich squirt what seemed like buckets of liquid out of his cunt, like the Niagara Falls itself resided within his body.

Mickey’s whole face was bright red, mouth open wide, eyes rolled completely to the back of his head, toes curled so tightly it almost looked painful, yet he was completely silent; his body shaking violently with the force of his orgasm, making the whole bed creak.

Ian just sat there, horrified that his family witnessed this sacred moment between him and his lover. He contemplates what Mickey’s going to do to him when he comes back from his earth-shattering orgasm since it was his fault that he not only forgot to close the bedroom door completely and lock it, but that he brought him over there when Mickey didn’t want to be there in the first place. During his deep thought, Ian didn’t register that Mickey’s was still squirting heavily, pressurized liquid all over him, until he snaps out of it, and yanks the bottom of the comforter on the bed, over Mickey’s wild explosion, covering up his pussy, yet the bedspread quickly developed an increasingly large dark spot due to constant spurts out Mickey’s hole.

“Ian, what the _fuck_?!” Fiona screams again, and was about to say something else, when she was interrupted by Mickey’s loud, shuddering gasp, followed by a final higher-octave than normal moan, which made, all of their jaws, excluding Ian’s, drop even more.

Mickey fell backwards onto the bed, still experiencing tremors and looks over at Ian, mouth curved into a real smile and eyes half-lidded, but freezes, face quickly fading from tomato red to ashen grey in mere seconds when he hears a familiar voice coming from the right of him, destroying his afterglow.

“Ian _fucking_ Gallagher, what the _fuck_ is going on?!” Fiona grits out through her teeth.

Mickey slowly turns his head to look at the people standing in the doorway, and then looked down at the mess he made all over the bed. He then looks at Ian, who has his head down in shame, with deadly fire in his eyes, wanting to reach over and choke the living life out of him. He once again, looks at the five people in the doorway, all sporting wide eyes and dropped jaws, and it would’ve been comical, if Mickey didn’t feel the tears of embarrassment coming to his eyes.

And when Ian looks at his boyfriend, Mickey Milkovich, tough ex-con, pimp, a father, ex-husband, he feels his heart lurch painfully.

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to keep in character as much as I could, especially with Mickey, but I feel since this occurs a few years into the future, he's entitled to some type of development.
> 
> Title of the story comes from Arctic Monkeys' "Do I Wanna Know?"; it's a very addictive song with a great meaning.
> 
> Maybe I'll do chapter titles after lyrics in some songs I like and find significant but I don't know, I'll see how far this goes.


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting around the kitchen table of the Gallagher household, said family including Kevin, Veronica and now Jimmy whom had come back from running a grocery errand, sat quietly, in uncomfortable silence, until Carl spoke up first.

“Does this mean that Mickey is actually a girl and not a boy?”

Kevin and Lip laughed at Carl’s unabashed question, both clueless to Ian’s heated glare directed at them; however their attention shifted over to Debbie, who provided an answer.

“No, stupid, Mickey has both a woman and man’s genitalia, he’s intersexed.”

“Wait, how the hell would you know that, Debs?” Lip asked unsurprised, yet curious about his younger sister’s knowledge.

“I’m 16, not 12 anymore, there’re certain things I now know that I didn’t know back then, like the sexual position 69 allows for both partners to satisfy-“

“Alright, stop, we’re not talking about this with you kids here. Debs, Carl, take Liam out in the living room and play with the twins.” Fiona quickly interrupted, before the conversation could continue onto a potentially disastrous path.

“Man, why do we always have to leave when shit’s just starting to get good, I mean we’re older now!” Carl complained, reluctantly getting up from his seat, wincing when Fiona smacked him on the back of the head for his language.

Once Carl, Debbie and Liam were out in the living room, settling down to play with the Ball twins and watch some T.V., Fiona turned back to face Ian, ready to talk, but then thought for a second.

“And turn the T.V. up!” She yelled out to the kids, satisfied to hear Carl and Debbie’s annoyed groan, but the T.V. did climb in its volume, enough where she knew that they wouldn’t be able to hear the adults’ conversation.

When all of that was settled, the tension-filled silence draped over all of their shoulders once again, no one willing to talk about what just went on only about an hour earlier. Once Mickey had realized that he had unknowingly put on a show for his sister, the Gallaghers and the Ball family, he had reverted back to the Mickey that everyone knew of before Ian Gallagher domesticated him.

He had snatched the completely drenched covers off of the bed, wrapped it around himself, pushed past the shell-shocked faces, with the familiar violent exclamation of “Fuck off” and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut so loudly, everyone within the house felt the sound reverberate throughout their bodies.

All eyes turned back to Ian, who took to sitting on the edge of his bed, having taken the opportunity to yank his boxers on; hard-on diminished, and was now resting his elbows on his knees, his hands on either side of his buzzed cut hair.

“Hey, uh, you got a bit…a lot of something on your face, dude.”

Elbowing Kevin in the ribs for his ridiculous comment, Veronica looked at Fiona, who was still staring at Ian, watching him pick up his T-shirt from the floor and use it to wipe the still, shiny slick from his face.

“Well, Ian, I’m really not going to ask again after this, what the hell did I just see?”

“Look,” Ian gets up off of the bed, starting to gather him and Mickey’s clothes up off the floor. “I’ll explain this whole situation to you later, but right now I want to take a shower and see if Mick’s alright. Though I don’t understand what the problem is.”

Fiona splutters, her hands rising to her hips, hands balling to fists in anger and annoyance.

“You don’t understand what the problem is? Jesus, Ian, your whole family just walked in on you eating out your _boy_ friend’s what appeared to be a fucking pussy, and witnessed him let go like a goddamn water hose all over you!”

“Though with the faces that he made and those moans that came out of him, I can definitely understand why you’d go to town on him, man, because wow, that was actually hot as much as it was shock-“

“Shut the fuck up, Kevin!” Veronica and Fiona shout at him in unison.

“You know what, we’ll all be downstairs.” Veronica notifies to Fiona and Ian, yanking Kevin along with her down the stairs, Mandy and Lip, following after them after being pinned with Veronica’s pointed stare.

“You’re gay, since when do you engage in sexual acts involving a vagina?” Fiona questioned once everyone was downstairs.

“Since the day I began my relationship with Mickey Milkovich.” Ian proudly admits, yet annoyed with the way his big sister was acting about a harmless situation.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What is the problem, Fiona?” Ian asked genuinely confused by how she was acting.

“Liam was just released from the fucking _hospital_ , or were you too busy munching on your boyfriend’s carpet to check your phone?”

Ian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he went over to the bed to pick up his jeans, to try and locate his phone but when he couldn’t find it, he dropped the jeans on the bed, and realized he must have left it at Mickey’s in their rush to leave before Svetlana and her lover Nika came over with the rest of the Russian whores for a break from gargling sweaty balls, sloppy fucking and pre-mature ejaculators.

“What happened?”

“He had another seizure and it was a really bad one, he nearly bit his tongue off.” Fiona sighed out.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, Fiona-“

“Save it, Ian, I know you and Mickey are happy and whatever, but this is not the first time you’ve done something like this, though nothing can compare to this shit fest. Just, go wash up and come downstairs so we can talk about this.”

With that, Fiona had turned and left, her hair whipped and flared out behind her.

Now, sitting at the table, neither knew what to say. Mickey was still upstairs hiding out in the bathroom and Ian didn’t want to pressure him to meet everyone’s eyes and judgmental stares, but he was starting to get worried. He glanced at everyone around the table and realized he just wanted to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible.

Fiona clears her throat and begins the interrogation.

“How long has Mickey had a, uhhh, umm-”, She looked to the others for some type of help on what exactly to call Mickey’s anatomy, but no one wanted to touch the topic with a 1,000 foot pole, so she just took a deep breath and continued. “A vagina?”

“I don’t really think that’s any of your fucking business, bitch.” Mickey exclaimed harshly while coming down the stairs, dressed fully back into his own clothes.

“Excuse you?” Fiona questioned Mickey in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth twisted into a frown, surprised at his choice of words toward her.

She knew Mickey wasn’t the happiest or friendliest person around, but after he and the Gallaghers, as well as the Balls worked together to get Ian through his deep depressive state, everything had been cool between them all over the last few years. Mickey would sometimes drop his son, Yevgeny, off at the Gallagher household to play with the kids, or he would kick in on paying for groceries, even more so than he did when he was staying with them for that brief amount of time. He would buy the kids, and a few instances Lip, Fiona, Veronica and even Kevin, a few gifts for different celebrations.

The biggest shock came when they found out that Mickey Milkovich could cook his fucking ass off. Cheeseburgers, steak, French fries made from scratch, macaroni and cheese, Lasagna, Chicken Alfredo, nearly anything, you ask him to make it, give him the ingredients and he’s off to whip up a goddamn buffet. He even made some Russian food-type shit, that Fiona can’t recall the name of, but it was definitely something worth damn near dying over, it was so fucking good.

But now, she could see the change in Mickey. He had closed off again, which was noticeable by the tightness of his shoulders, almost like he was holding the weight of the world on them. His hands were clenched into fists and his blonde hair, usually wayward looking, was even more mussed up than usual as a result of not only his recent shower but him constantly running his fingers through it, frustrated at everyone and everything.

During one of Ian’s depressive episodes, he had admitted to Mickey that he would rather him have his natural hair instead of that black slop placed atop his head. And Mickey, thinking Ian was being serious, had ran to the bathroom, to the sink and proceeded to rinse the chemicals, dye and gel out of his hair, which took about four washes, to make Ian happy. Even then, his newly revealed blonde hair still had a few blackish, brownish streaks in it, but Mickey knew those would be gone after he washed his hair when taking his showers.

Ian had a stupefied look upon his face once he saw his boyfriend’s new hair, because of how different and _adorable_ Mickey now looked with his natural blonde hair, proudly shining in the sunlight streaming through Mickey’s bedroom window. Mickey had told him to fuck off after he stared for too many seconds too long and stormed out of the room, ignoring Ian’s laughter.

Everyone else’s reaction mirrored that of Ian’s , with Lip claiming that he looked like he could be Tinkerbell’s twin brother, he just needed some wings and fairy dust to complete the look, since he’s got the height and hair down. He had left the Gallagher house infuriated that he tried to do something good for his boyfriend, getting fucking laughter instead of some type of appraisal.

It wasn’t until later, at his own house, where he was angrily washing the dishes in the kitchen, and Ian had come in the room, sauntering up behind him, to cage him in against the counter, Mickey’s body bracketed by Ian’s brick-like arms.

“Just to let you know, fuck what everyone else thinks, I think you look so damn sexy like this, Mick.” Ian had whispered hotly in Mickey’s ear, finishing the statement with a few gentle kisses to the side of his neck.

Mickey had responded by violently pushing Ian away, but before Ian could beg for his boyfriend’s forgiveness for making him angry, he caught a hint of a smile on Mickey’s face, and understood that all was fine.

But right now, all was not fine.

“Let’s fucking go Ian, I just want to go home and sleep this bullshit nightmare off.” Mickey claimed, yanking his jacket off of the hook, purposely hitting Ian in the side of the head with the zipper part of it, to which he felt a small welling of satisfaction in his belly when he heard the wince that his boyfriend emitted.

“No, you’re not going anywhere. We still have to talk about this shit!” Fiona yelled propelling herself off of the chair, and catching everyone’s attention, including the kids in the living room, who had long stopped playing when they heard the tell tale stomps of Mickey’s feet coming down the stairs.

“Yea?” Mickey said while he stepped aside so Ian can get his own jacket off of the wooden hook. “And who’s going to fucking stop us, huh?”

Mickey and Fiona stared each other down for what felt like an eternity before Lip spoke up.

“Maybe you should just stick around, Ian, you too, Mickey. We just want to understand-”

“There’s not a goddamn _fucking_ thing to understand about anything. It’s our business alone, not any of yours.” Mickey spits out, making eye contact with each of them, before settling his gaze back on Fiona, daring her to say something else.

“Mick,” Eyes whipped to Mandy, to which some had forgotten was still there, especially Mickey. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh please, not this melodramatic shit.” He scoffed. “Like I was going to tell my baby sister that one of her big brothers has a fucking cunt. Yea, okay, fuck outta here.”

“But-”

“But nothing! I want to go home right goddamn now. So, if none of you have anything else to say, we’ll be taking our leave.” Mickey exclaimed.

“Sit the fuck down! We are not done, Milkovich!” Fiona screamed, now annoyed with Mickey and how silent Ian was being.

“Fi, we’ll just come back later-”

“No, Ian, you do this shit all the time!” Fiona moved around the edge of the table and steps closer to Ian, ready to flip the fuck out, but gave Mickey a challenging look, when he stepped right up to her, blocking her access to Ian.

“I wouldn’t put hands on him if I were you.”

“Fuck off, Mickey, he’s my brother, you don’t control him.”

“And neither do you! He’s coming home with me, so your little heart to heart felt conversation about me and my fucked up anatomy, will have to fucking wait!” He yelled, getting closer to her face, at which point Jimmy, Lip and Kevin stood up ready to defend Fiona, if some serious shit were to go down.

“Ian, you don’t have just Mickey as a fucking family, you have us too. You can’t just blow us off, because you want to spend so much time with Mickey and his son, that’s not fair for any of us and you know it.” Fiona pleaded with Ian to realize that.

Ian looked down at his feet and knew that Fiona was right. He had missed Debbie’s Sweet 16 and Lip’s college graduation and Carl’s ability to finally graduate from middle school after the school officials just gave him his diploma exasperated yet happy to get rid of him and the terror that constantly followed his decisions.

He had missed a couple of Liam’s birthday parties, as well as the Ball twins’ birthdays and he even skipped out on Mandy and Fiona’s accomplishment of settling down to an adequate enough job that brought in steady income, without anyone having to feel embarrassed about what they were doing for a living. He felt like shit, and as much as he loved Mickey and how he’s come to love Yevgeny like he was his own, he knew that he needed to get his shit together and spend more time with the family that he grew up around. He needed to be there for him like they were there for him throughout his younger life, and especially throughout the Bipolar situation of his.

“Hey Fi-” Heads and eyes focused in on Ian, but then turned to Mickey when he made to interrupt.

“Ian-”

“Just fucking wait, Mick, please.” Ian said softly, to which Mickey reluctantly closed his mouth, crossing his arms across his chest like a petulant child.

“I know you usually wouldn’t be making such a big deal out of what you saw if something bad didn’t already happen,” everyone’s heads, excluding Ian and Mickey’s, shifted downwards in sadness, and this fortified Ian’s need to continue, “So, what happened at the hospital with Liam earlier?”

It was so silent that a pin could drop and make it seem like a bomb had just exploded until Fiona spoke up once again, her voice trembling with utter fear and disappointment.

“They said that Liam could possibly have a brain tumor, Ian.”

Ian felt his heart drop out of his chest and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mickey snap his head up in surprise, and when he felt all eyes on him, he felt as if walls were closing in on him and he knew he had to get out of there and get some fresh air. There was just no way, no fucking way that his baby brother has a _brain tumor_ , no way.

He yanked open the back door of the house and sprinted out into the night, running until he felt he could no longer run anymore, ignorant of the calls for his name still emanating from within the house.


	3. Chapter 3

It had taken Mickey a couple of hours to find Ian.

When everyone had witnessed him bolt out of the door, they immediately resorted to standing there like shocked idiots, yelling out Ian’s name, while Mickey had just simply bent down, scooped up Ian’s fallen jacket, and ran out the door, jumping into his beat up car, to follow after him.

Despite the fact that Ian had solidly filled out the last few years, body bulking out even more than what it was like a few years prior, his added on muscled weight did nothing to deter his ability to sprint like a fucking rocket, which Mickey silently cursed at in his head. By the time he had gotten in his car, and started it up, Ian had seemingly disappeared, which resulted in Mickey punching his steering wheel out of anger and frustration.

He hoped to whatever and whoever resided upstairs that Ian would not break down and reverse all of the hard work that everyone, including Ian, had put in to make sure that he never gets that low ever again.

Mickey was still bothered by the fact that just a couple of hours earlier only one person knew his secret, and now the band wagon had gained an extra 9 people or so who now had access to information that will probably cause Mickey to get into even more street fights than before, if they didn’t keep their fucking mouths shut.

Even though it’s been awhile since Mickey had came out to his family in the Alibi Room during his son’s christening, fuckers who heard about what went down between the Milkovich patriarch and his faggot son, didn’t waste the opportunity to talk shit. Most of the time, Mickey just ignored them and so did Ian, when they were out walking somewhere together, but sometimes some dickhead had to push it by trying to start fuck all. Mickey and Ian always easily won the fights with Mickey still retaining his street fighting and Ian tapping into his ROTC training but it was tiring.

Pulling into the open field which was where the abandoned buildings still remained after all of this time; Mickey stopped the car and glanced up to one particularly tall, ugly ass looking building. There, behind the severely cracked and dirt-crusted window, Mickey could make out the build of Ian Gallagher.

He dropped his head onto the steering wheel in relief that he thought quickly enough to think about this secret hideout of theirs, the abandoned rooftop. The rooftop, the benches at the baseball field and sometimes under the school bleachers, would always remain as something of theirs and no one else’s. Nights of frantic fucking, shameless moaning, shot-gunning, smoking or even just talking, played out across Mickey’s brain and he knew that there was no way that they went through all of that to just have Ian become a depressed fucking mess again.

With that thought lingering on his mind, Mickey lifted his head, turned off the car, pushed open the door and ran up to where Ian was.

“Yo, Gallagher!” He yelled once he was partly up the stairs, huffing for breath. Though he still drank and smoked occasionally, having toned it down for his son, he was not in as good as amount of shape as Ian was. He was still muscled, but his abdomen, that used to have distinct abs, had been replaced by a soft looking bulge.

As much as it annoyed Mickey, Ian found it as adorable as his blonde hair, which sometimes resulted in playful fights between the two.

“I should’ve been there with him, Mick.” Ian distractedly said, leaning against the wall beside the window, staring out at the grass.

“Fuck, look, Ian, it’s not your fault and you know it. You can’t be there for everyone.”

“That’s the problem; I haven’t been there for any of them at all.” Ian supplied, sounding completely distressed.

“Ian, please tell me that you’re not-”

“I’m fine, Mickey.” Ian bit out venomously, making Mickey flinch at the tone the slightest bit. “I’m not going to completely fall off the ladder every time something fucks us over, that’s what the meds are for, so just relax.”

Mickey nodded, apologizing and walked over towards Ian, grabbing on to his lover’s arm to steer his gaze away from the dull looking grass, to his own icy blue-colored eyes.

“‘Ay, it’s gonna be alright. Liam’s a fuckin’ Gallagher, and everyone knows Gallaghers get through shit, no matter how shitty and fucked up it may be, you’re all fighters.” Mickey said gently, reaching his hand up to cup Ian’s chin, tilting it downwards towards him.

“I sure hope so, Mick, because Liam, out of all of us, he really doesn’t deserve for that to happen to him.”

Mickey voices his agreement and stands a little on his tip toes to place a kiss on Ian’s lips, to which he immediately responded by wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, tightly, deepening the kiss. Ian’s tongue laved over Mickey’s bottom lip and without waiting for permission, pried open his mouth forcefully using his thick, wet and pink muscle, wrenching a guttural, yet muffled moan out of Mickey.

Ian, now fully aroused hearing that noise come out of his boyfriend, dropped his broad hands down to Mickey’s full, bubbled ass, clenching a palm full of each cheek in either hand, and propelled Mickey up to wrap his legs around Ian’s trim waist. Letting out a small yelp of surprise, Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck for balance, and continued to wrestle with the taller boy’s tongue in his mouth.

Bringing them both to the edge of the windowsill, Ian sat Mickey down on the ledge, with the blonde haired boys legs still wrapped loosely around him and began to grind his hard length against Mickey’s crotch.

“ _Sss_ , _ohhhhh_ , damn.” Mickey whimpered between slack lips, once he felt Ian began to hotly suck and lick at that spot behind his ear.

He felt himself get increasingly wetter and it intensified when a questing hand reached down the front of his pants, sliding into his underwear to tease his clit into full hardness and then falling further to insert two fingers, his ring and middle finger, into Mickey’s cunt.

“Yesss, so fucking hot and wet, that feel good, baby?” Ian hisses out, slowly thrusting his thick fingers in and out of his boyfriend’s hot pussy.

“Oooh _hhh_ , fuck you, you know it fuckin’ doo _oesssss_ , mmm, shit yeeaaahh.” Mickey grabs onto the sill behind him with one hand, and clamps his other hand onto Ian’s shoulder, getting ready to fuck himself on those long fingers, until he squirts out his fucking brain-

“Wait, mmphh,” Mickey tried to say, before Ian crushed his mouth to his in a hard kiss, “Mm, Ian, fuckin’ shiiitt, wait, stop it!”

“What’s the problem, babe?” Ian asked nonchalantly, fingers still leisurely thrusting in and out of Mickey’s opening.

“We still haaa _aa_ hh shit, haven’t talked about wh _aaa_ t we’re gonna fuckin’, _ohhhhh_!” Mickey exclaimed once he felt Ian curl his fingers the slightest bit upwards and rub against that spot that made Mickey black out for a second, toes curling within his boots and eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

“Mm, what was that, Mick? I don’t think I quite understood what it was you were trying to say.” Ian said teasingly, chuckling under his breath at the writhing mess he reduced his boyfriend into with the movement of his fingers.

“Stop fuckin’ doin’ that, you uhhh _hnnn_ , know how sensitive that shit iss _sss_ , _stop_.” Mickey pleaded, one eye half lidded and the other already beginning to roll back into his skull, due to that constant pressure of Ian’s digits pressing on that button deep within his vaginal walls.

“Nooo, you don’t really want me to stop, baby, do you?” He picked up the pace with his fingers, and began to pound his fingers steadily, with deadly precision on Mickey’s g-spot.

Mickey howled out towards the ceiling, and his body instinctively began to try and move away from that intense and heavy pressure, but Ian held him steady and continued his assault of Mickey’s spot.

Ian eyed his lover’s disheveled appearance, shaking body, drool sliding down the corner of his mouth, eyes shuddering rapidly with the inability to keep them open and focused, and felt his own dick, that already felt like it was about to burst, begin to pulse rapidly. Mickey’s hand, the one that was clenched onto the ledge of the sill, frantically reached out to grab onto the wrist of the hand that was currently occupied, while his other hand clenched tightly into the fabric covering Ian’s shoulder.

Neither will ever understand how Mickey managed to push Ian away from the onslaught of ecstasy being forced upon his body, but he had somehow found the strength to unwrap his shaking foot from around Ian’s waist, and kick Ian in the chest, not roughly but enough to get him off of him.

Surprised, Ian stuttered backwards, but still remained standing. Mickey was still leaning heavily against the windowsill, trying to will away the tremors invading his body. Once he settled down enough, where he could talk without moaning, he gave Ian a less than effective glare.

“When I fuckin’ say stop, Gallagher, I fuckin’ mean it.”

“Whatever, you didn’t really mean it, you were about to burst all over my hands and all over the inside of your jeans.” Ian shrugged, then walked up to Mickey, staring down at him with an amused smile. “And plus that would’ve been sexy as fuck to watch you try and walk with a big ass cum stain decorating the front and back of your pants.”

Mickey fought down the urge to blush, and instead just punched Ian in the stomach for sounding so cocky.

“Shut it, asshole.”

“What the fuck did you stop me for anyway?” Ian asked unbothered by Mickey’s jab to his abdomen.

“Because, what are we gonna do about my situation?”

“What situation? You’re the one who wanted me to stop finger-fucking you so you can try to tell me some unimportant shit.”

“Fuck, Firecrotch, you must’ve gotten dumber than a bag a’ fuckin’ rocks over the years because seriously?” Mickey exclaimed. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout your whole family walkin’ in on you trying to swallow my cunt whole and me shootin’ my spunk all over that dumb-ass, alien-looking face of yours!”

“Shit, I don’t know, Mick. Who cares what they think. I’m trying to block that and the news about Liam out right now, I don’t want to think about it.” Ian takes the fingers still covered in Mickey’s juices, and licked them off one by one. “Mm, damn you taste good, babe.”

Mickey shifted his eyes away from Ian’s obscene behavior, but then rolled his eyes.

“They’re goin’ to ask an ass-load of questions that I don’t feel like havin’ ta’ deal with, Ian.”

“So, just tell them to fuck off like you usually do. That’s what you’re known for right? Stop being a little bitch about it.” Ian rudely said, turning away from his boyfriend to start going down the stairs.

Mickey stood there shell-shocked at what he just heard before his blood began to slowly boil. He glanced around and found a good sizeable rock and followed after Ian, unsurprised when he found him already downstairs and out in the field, _damn those fucking long ass legs_ , Mickey cursed in his head.

Already a few inches away from the car, Ian turned around to see if Mick was coming only to be met with a rock colliding with his chest.

“The fuck, Mickey?!” Ian touched the spot to see if it was bleeding, and though it didn’t hurt, he allowed himself to be annoyed with his boyfriend’s behavior.

“I could say the same thing, Gallagher!” Mickey yelled, marching up to Ian. “Say some shit like that to me again, and I’ll knock your fucking head off your goddamn shoulders.”

“I’m sorry, Mick, but there are other things more important than having to deal with my family and your sister asking questions about the functioning of your pussy.” Ian walked up to Mickey, who stood stock-still in anger, and sifted through his pockets, satisfied when he finds the car keys.

Unlocking the car, Ian gets into the driver’s side and places the key in the ignition, and then looked over towards Mickey still standing with his fists clenched at his sides, the cool wind moving through his blonde hair sloppily.

“You comin’, Mickey?”

Mickey desperately wanted to say to Ian to fuck off and then walk away, just to spite the ever loving shit out of him, and put him through what he put Mickey through a half hour ago when he went out to look for him after he split from the circus house. But he knew that Ian had a point. Though his genitalia had been and still is a sore subject to talk and to let anyone know about, he knew that the situation with Liam was something that was of far more importance than Mickey’s problem with people having the knowledge about his fuck fest.

He still felt wholly uncomfortable knowing that his sister, the rest of the Gallaghers and both Kev and V, had witnessed something he felt was just between Ian and him, but he’ll just have to deal with it later because all he wanted to do at that point was go home and collapse into his bed. The mind-blowing orgasm from earlier on as well as his near orgasm a few minutes ago, he and his body was completely beat.

Mickey sighed and walked over to the passenger side of the car, yanking open the door, planting himself moodily into the seat, and slammed the door shut after he was settled in.

He heard Ian take in a deep sniff and looked expectantly at him when he feels Ian’s eyes on him.

“I can still smell you, Mick.” Ian whispers deviously within the confines of the car.

“Fuck off, Gallagher.” Mickey, this time couldn’t prevent the bright red blush from creeping up on his cheeks at Ian’s vulgar statement.

Ian laughed out loud and leaned over the console, giving his exasperated lover a lingering peck on the lips. He begins to laugh even more when he notices the blush darken Mick’s cheeks and now it’s because he knows that Mickey could taste himself on Ian’s lips.

“You love me, baby.” Ian smugly pointed out, pushing the button to turn on the radio, to which he began bobbing his head a bit to the rap song that he happened upon and drove out of the open field by the abandoned buildings and steered the car onto the road. 


	4. Chapter 4

“‘Ay, shut the fuck up out there!”

It was way too fucking early in the morning to deal with Russian bitches talking loudly with one another about shit nothing.

Mickey knows the women heard him when they all quiet down, but resume speaking in hushed tones. He would have gotten up to kick the whores out but he realizes that it must be their break, which means it must be sometime in the afternoon instead of morning, like Mickey had originally thought, so he lets it slide. He also was man enough to admit that he feels comfortable and warm with Ian’s arms wrapped around him from behind. He glances over towards the foot of the bed and saw Yevgeny, miraculously still sleeping peacefully in his crib, unperturbed by his daddy’s fit.

A few years before, once shit became somewhat normal again, or what could constitute as normal with Mickey and Ian’s relationship, and Svetlana had told Mickey in blunt terms “No more bullshit with baby”, he had stepped up and acted as a better father towards his son. It went from watching him when Svetlana had to work or when she wanted to spend some time with her bitch, Nika, and changing his diapers to feeding him, bathing him, clothing him and on occasion playing with him.

He knew damn well that he didn’t want to be in any way like his piece of shit father, wherever he ended up in eternity, may he rest in shit, nor did he want to be like Frank Gallagher, a fucking dead man still walking, doing crazy fucked up shit, hiding from people he owes whoever the fuck knows to and wasting his liver away once again to fucking hell. Mickey felt like he himself didn’t turn out so bad, compared to his other brothers and even the overall Milkovich family tree, he just needed a few figurative kicks in the ass to finally get his shit together. It’s possible that his fuck fest may have added to the racked up list of crimes that he either committed or has been involved in, because he felt that it was fate’s way of fucking with him; the gay kid likes dick, so let’s give him an extra hole, so he can take double the cocks in his body. But after meeting Ian, he sort of got over it.

It was nerve-wracking at first, because the first time they fucked, it was quick and Mickey doesn’t think that Ian even saw the extra piece of anatomy that he shouldn’t have had in the first place. But one day, a little ways down the road, they had taken a break from their rough and frenetic fucking, by taking it slowly in Mickey’s house; that night before Terry caught him with Ian’s dick shoved deep in his ass. Ian had laid Mickey out on his bed, ready to just worship his cock but then when he had moved further downwards towards his asshole, he had discovered the slit in place where the balls usually were.

Now, Ian never touched Mickey between the legs before, excluding his asshole, because one time when he tried, which was in the middle of some crazy fucking, Mickey had slapped his hand away harshly and told him if he tried that shit again, somebody would find his fucking body in a ditch somewhere. Ian had acquiesced and backed off, his hands up in a placating gesture; he had just assumed that it was still uncomfortable for Mickey to be getting fucked by a guy and felt it was shameful for him. Even when they would fuck face to face, hence that one time in the freezer at the Kash N’ Grab, before Frank caught them, Mickey would leave his shirt or undershirt on and used the bottom half to cover the lower half of his junk so Ian wouldn’t see it and freak out about a missing part.

Whenever Mickey was close to cumming, he would always make Ian pull out, yanking the condom off, insistent on sucking him off to get him to cum because Mickey was an avid squirter, and when he came he came _a lot_. He had to constantly lie to Ian about whether he truthfully came already, which he knew Ian could immediately see through, which constantly resulted in Ian walking off looking hurt thinking that he wasn’t satisfying enough. But Mickey knew that that was the exact opposite; Ian’s monster dick was more than satisfying enough, hitting all the right spots in mere seconds upon entry.

Mickey had thought that Ian was completely clueless and would never ask any questions about it, but what Ian had said to him that night had sealed the deal of his love for Ian Gallagher, though he wouldn’t openly admit that to anyone.

“So, this is why you would always cover yourself when we face each other.” He had questioned, eyes glancing up from between his lover’s thighs, to make contact with Mickey’s wide, frightened ones.

When Mickey didn’t say anything, Ian had leant up to give him a quick kiss.

“You’re still the sexiest fucking guy I know, and your vag and missing sack doesn’t turn me off.” He had then crawled back down between Mickey’s thighs and gave the soft looking slit a teasing peck. “I love you for you, Mickey Milkovich.”

That had been the first time Ian had ever voiced his love for Mickey out loud, and still to this day, Mickey denies ever having teared up a bit at Ian’s proclamation. Ian had actually convinced Mickey to let him make love to him to which Mickey reluctantly agreed to. Though from that day on, Mickey promised to do it like that more often in the future because the anticipation of orgasm seemed just as satisfying as the quick ones they’ve both experienced.

But in general, over the last few years, Mickey, Ian, Yevgeny and even Svetlana have gotten a bit closer with one another. Ian would sometimes hold conversations with ‘Lana and even crack a few jokes every now and again, her and Mickey always spouting unnecessary violent, yet harmless insults at each other. Mickey and Ian even went out to eat at a few crappy diners or some nice restaurants, if they had enough money, with ‘Lana and her girlfriend or whatever the fuck that woman is to her, Nika and they sometimes even brought along Yevgeny for the hell of it; those times at the restaurants were always riotous.

People looking over towards their table with disparaging looks at their language and rowdy-like behavior, jaws dropping in disgust at the way they talked in front of a mere child; it was “too fucking highlarious”, Mickey had explained to Ian once.

So, now here they were, about four, five years later, still living in this shitty house. Terry long gone, due to him fucking with the wrong people, whom retaliated by putting a bullet between his eyes, to which no one even blinked twice at hearing about the death of the Milkovich tyrant. Mickey’s other brothers, they fucked off somewhere, but Iggy still sticks around, just chilling about, occasionally fucking one of the Russian whores, whenever he felt like it.

Together, the Milkovich family, including Ian and the Russian whores, would kick in on paying off bills, and they always have more than enough between all of them. Ian still working at the crappy Kash N’ Grab, along with Mickey who works a series of odd jobs here and there, but his main ones being towelhead’s store and the pimping business that still continues after all these years.

Feeling a hand begin to rub his slightly chubby midsection, Mickey snaps out of his reminiscing state and looks down to see Ian’s hand creeping towards the band of his briefs.

“Fuck outta here, Firecrotch, I’m about to go back to sleep.” Mickey knocks away his boyfriend’s questing fingers and settles deeper into his pillow, tightening the covers around his body.

“Hmm, sure about that, Mick?” Ian asks in his sleep-roughened voice.

“Mhmmm.” Mickey simply hums, content in just laying there with his eyes closed.

All was silent for awhile, and Mickey feels himself drift off into that pleasant state between consciousness and sleep. He vaguely registers the rustling of sheets behind him, the presence of Ian pressed against him disappearing and Mickey rolls over onto his back, thinking that Ian was getting up and leaving to go get ready for his shift at the store.

A few more seconds of quietness drifts by and Mickey seems to have settled into a light sleep, until he feels hands smoothing up and down his calves from beneath the covers, making Mickey jolt awake.

“Ian, goddammit, I said I’m too fuckin’ tired to deal with your horny ass, so quit fuckin’ around and _fuck_!” Mickey throws his head back against the pillows when Ian licks a hot trail all the way from his asshole to the tip of his cock.

His eyes flutter open and he was ready to lift up the blankets and curse Ian out for him interrupting his chance to get more sleep, but when he began to lick at his cunt like it was an ice cream cone or lollipop, using the flat, fat part of his tongue to apply constant pressure, Mickey lets his arms drop and opts to grab onto the bed sheet instead.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Firecrotch, I’m startin’ to..mmpfh,” Mickey starts, while trying to muffle his moans since his son was still in the room, “…think that you want a real bitch’s thighs to bury your face in between.” He finishes, panting out quietly.

“Why’s that?” Ian lets his head ease up a few inches, pushing Mickey’s legs up even more so they were more bent, and used the pad of his thumb to rub at Mick’s swollen clit, eliciting an audible gasp from the older male above him.

“This the second time, _shit_ , that you’ve been messin’ around with my cunt, Gallagher.” Mickey sighs out, letting one of his hands drift downwards beneath the covers to gently grasp Ian’s head, pushing it further into his hot cavern. “You want me to call over Angie Zago, see if she’ll let- _ah_!”

Once Ian had heard that name, he nicks his teeth along Mick’s clit, making him let out a loud yelp that they’re both pretty sure even the women out in the living room heard it.

“Fuckin’ dick!” Mickey whispers furiously, punching Ian in the shoulder in anger. “That fuckin’ hurt!”

“Don’t mention that fat, sloppy bitch’s name while we’re together like this ever again,” Ian replies dangerously, his hand slapping briefly on the side of Mickey’s flank, “You fuckin’ know better.”

“Fuck off, I don’t know shit-”

“Hey, Mick, you- oh, fuck, sorry you guys, I thought…I heard...I-”

“Get the fuck out, Mandy!” Mick yells out to his younger sister.

“Oh, Christ, Mickey like I haven’t heard or even seen you two monkeys going at it like you haven’t seen each other in years.” Mandy rolls her kohl-rimmed eyes, and turned around, closing the door behind her. “Everything’s fine ‘Lana!” Mick and Ian hear her yell out before the door shuts completely.

Mickey looks after her, surprised that she wasn’t mad or anything about the fact that she now knows her older brother has a female part, courtesy of what she saw yesterday at the Gallaghers; she didn’t even mention anything about it. _Thank fucking God_. He flops backwards onto the pillow, having sat up on his forearms when Firecrotch decided to turn into a fucking vampire and try to bite off his clit, the mood now gone.

Ian pulls himself up from under the covers, laying his heavy body atop Mickey’s smaller frame, settling between his thighs and leans down to kiss Mickey and to ask if he wanted to continue, but Mickey smacks him on the side of the head, sitting up.

“No, I don’t want to fuckin’ continue so don’t fuckin’ ask, get the fuck off of me, dickwad.” Mickey launches himself up from the bed and bends over to grab up his underwear that somehow found their way to the floor. When he feels a slap to his ass, he turns and throws the briefs in Ian’s face and walks towards the bathroom, butt naked.

Ian laughs whole heartedly, green eyes twinkling in delight. Hearing the shower turn on, he decides to get up off of the bed, pulling on his sweatpants, careless of going commando, and follows after Mickey’s trail.

Going directly to the sink, Ian gets out his toothbrush and toothpaste, beginning to clean his teeth, while watching Mickey through the replaced mirror that Ian had pestered him about getting. When Ian had seen the damage that was done to the bathroom mirror, he just gave it a “What the fuck?” kind of look and told Mickey that he should get it fixed, no questions asked.

Ian’s eyes roam over his boyfriend’s body behind the nearly, see-through shower curtain, over every crevice, curve, and sharp line that was etched into him.

“Stop starin’ at me, Gallagher.” He hears Mickey call out from behind the shower curtain.

Ian just smiles and spits out the paste in his mouth, rinsing with the water and then finally splashing some water all over his face.

Finishing up in the bathroom, Ian leaves and creeps up to Yevgeny’s crib, intent on bringing him to the kitchen with him, but when he sees that he was still sleeping, he thinks better of it. He leans down and places a soft kiss on the kid’s forehead, slightly shaking his own head in fondness at the fact that at four years old, the kid still insists on sleeping in a damn crib.

Everyone had tried to get him out of the habit, but the kid outright refused, throwing a full on tantrum, until finally Mickey had threw his hands up in the air and yelled out a “fuck it!” and let the kid have his way, storming out of the room, muttering about how that shit can’t be healthy for him.

Venturing to his side of the room, he reaches into the bedside drawer, pulling out his meds and swallowing down two of the little blue pills, as instructed by the doctor and the bottle. He then leaves their room and goes out towards the living room, nodding in the direction of all of the whores and turning in the direction of the kitchen, stomach rumbling for something to eat.

Looking in the refrigerator and freezer, he sets out the ingredients for some banana pancakes. Ironically, Yevgeny liked the pancakes as much as his daddy does, and it reminds him of when he and Lip would take turns in the kitchen, making the beloved pancakes for Liam.

That thought stops him in his tracks. He places everything down on the counter and leans his hands against the edge of it, bowing his head and clenching his jaw. He didn’t completely forget about what Fiona had told him and Mickey last night, but he had pushed it to the back of his mind, unwilling to acknowledge it and what it could mean for Liam and everyone involved in his young life. At only ten years old, Liam still has his full life laid out ahead of him. Though there were still times where he wouldn’t talk due to the partial brain damage the Coke Accident had caused him, he was and still is improving; improving enough that in school he’s able to keep up with the other kids.

Everyone disagreed with trying to get him a special education tutor or teacher to help him out, mainly because of Debbie’s sentiment that Liam is a Gallagher, which is code for tough as fuck and invincible to shit life throws their way.

No one deserves something like this to happen to them, especially not a harmless little kid. Ian doesn’t think he’ll even wish something like that on his worst enemy, well, except for maybe Terry but the fuck face was long gone by now. If what the doctors said was true, about Liam facing the possibility of having a brain tumor…

Ian shakes his head, not wanting to accept that prediction. That’s actually what it just is, a fucking prediction, it’s not set in stone; it’s possible that the infrequent seizures that Liam’s had over the last few years could have another logical, yet benign reason.

The first time that Liam had had his seizure, was when he had just turned 7 years old, and thankfully everyone had been gathered at the time, celebrating his birthday. Drinks being passed around, music loud and thumping, making the house shake, all of them cheering and dancing happily. Sheila and Frank were even there; Sheila laughing with Debbie and Frank giving some of his fucked up, yet truthful advice to Carl, face flushed and merry with the alcohol he had already consumed.

Even Mickey had hesitantly let go a little, and was playing with Liam, and the Ball twins while his own son, Yevgeny, sat in his lap, clapping his chubby hands together in glee, gaining Ian’s attention whom looked over at the five of them fondly.

It wasn’t until Mickey was stacking the colorful blocks in between him and Liam, when all of a sudden the tower was knocked down, one hitting Yevgeny in the face, making him cry out in pain.

“The fuck?!” Mickey had shouted out in annoyance, hands up in shock.

“Mickey, what did we say- shit, Liam!” Fiona had turned around from laughing with Veronica about her and Kevin’s latest webcam video, when she heard Mickey’s language. But once she had zeroed in on the situation, her eyes had grown to the size of damn tennis balls, fear evident within them when she saw her baby brother shaking violently, feet kicking out recklessly, the whites of his eyes showing, white foam bubbling from his mouth.

All at once, shit became chaotic. Jimmy going over to turn the stereo off, Debbie, Carl, and Sheila jumped off of the couch in panic, while Frank just laid there, damn near passed out, drunk off of his sweet nirvana of liquor. Ian, Lip and Mandy had ran from the kitchen, where they were just sitting and talking with one another, after hearing the distress in Fiona’s voice. Kevin had immediately grabbed his phone and called 911, while continuously muttering out “Holy fuck” in disbelief at the scene before him.

Fiona had rushed over to Liam, Mickey, Yevgeny and the twins, with Veronica hot on her heels, and dropped to her knees beside Liam, who had fallen over due to the tremendous tremors coursing throughout his whole body.

“Oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck happened?” It was like the Coke Situation all over again. She didn’t take her eyes off of Liam and was about to reach out to hold him still but Mickey grabbed her hands and prevented her from doing so.

“Not supposed to try and hold someone during somethin’ like this.” He explained simply, yet his eyes just as wide as the others at what he was witnessing happen before him.

“The fuck-”

“He’s right, Fi, everybody just give him some room. Liam can you hear me, sweetie?” Liam’s body continued to convulse and Mickey was sitting there across from the twitching boy, with his hand shielding Yevgeny’s eyes from the potentially traumatic experience, other arm ushering the twins behind his back for the same reason.

He then shoved his hand into his back pocket, yanking out his leather wallet, and forced it in between Liam’s teeth. Before anyone could say anything, they could hear the wail of sirens coming down their street and Debbie had run out to flag them down.

Everything became a rush, with the paramedics barging in, questioning what went down and when they got the information about it as well as the boy’s history, it was called in to the hospital and they quickly strapped Liam to the stretcher, hooking up an oxygen mask and rolling him out. By that time, the convulsions had decreased to minor twitches but foam still seemed to stem from his mouth, regardless of Mickey’s wallet in place.

The party was over and Veronica scooped up her twins, following Debbie and Fiona to get into the back of the ambulance with Liam. Jimmy had hopped in Kevin’s truck along with Mandy, Lip and Ian, all focused on the safety of Liam, leaving Mickey behind, in their haste, with his son still wailing from his previous injury.

Once they were all assured that Liam was fine but he would sometimes experience minor episodes like this in the future, they were allowed to go and see him. They discovered him lying happily on the hospital bed, a couple of tubes trailing out of him, hooked up to some machines, but nothing too severe looking. After countless hugs and kisses, and sighs of relief, while Jimmy was talking with the doctors to see when Liam can go home and the others were playing or talking with him, glad that he was okay, Ian had turned his head and saw Mickey’s wallet lying innocently on the bedside table.

His mind flashed back briefly to a couple of hours ago where his ex-con, pimping boyfriend knew what to do to try and help Liam as much as possible.

He gingerly picked up the wallet and making sure that Liam was really okay, Ian walked over and kissed him on his forehead and once he got a smile from him in return, Ian snuck out of the room, while the others were still occupied.

Walking from the hospital to get to the Milkovich house took about 15-20 minutes, mainly with the help of Ian’s long and strong legs, and once he let himself in, he saw Svetlana with the baby in her arms, now asleep after crying his eyes out from earlier, talking quietly with Nika. Without even looking up, Svetlana had tilted her head to the side to signal where Mickey was to which Ian muttered a quick thanks and let her and Nika be, making his way to the back, where Mickey’s room was.

“Hey, Mick, you good?” Ian asked in the silence of the dark room once he opened the door and warily looked over Mickey’s body lounging across the bed, able to make out the figure of a cigarette between Mickey’s fingers.

Mickey took a deep drag and let the smoke exit through both his nose and mouth. After a few tense and wordless seconds, Ian was about to walk away and let Mickey have some space, uncertain of what he should do, before he heard Mickey’s gruff-sounding, yet small voice fill the air.

“My mother…when she was shootin’ shit up her arm and sniffin’ anythin’ and everythin’ that could possibly make her high as a fuckin’ kite, she would sometimes have real bad shakes.”

Ian closed the door behind him, stepping fully into the nearly pitch black room, the moon outside shining brightly enough to shed a bit of light over some of the furniture in the room, laying down beside the blonde haired man, leaning up on one elbow, and listening to him intensely.

“I remember askin’ a doctor, when we could afford to take her to the hospital, on how to help her and they gave me a look of fuckin’ sympathy, like I fuckin’ needed that shit, and they told me that I should never try to touch her when she was shakin’ like that,” Mickey reached over to the bedside table to his left and put out his cigarette in the ashtray, “And that I should find somethin’ like a belt, wallet or some type of cloth to put in her mouth so she wouldn’t bite off her goddamn tongue or fuck up her teeth.” He finished while settling comfortably down once again on his back.

Ian didn’t know what to say to that. Mickey didn’t talk about his mother, at all, and now that he was opening up to him about it, Ian didn’t know whether to feel elated that their relationship was making even more progress or to be devastated and upset about Mickey’s mother being a drug addict. He himself knew what it was like to have two incapable parents, with Monica’s insane bouts of different emotions and Frank’s alcoholic tendencies, but he had older siblings who were there and still are there for him. All of the Gallagher siblings helped each other out when one was in a tight spot, but the fact that Mickey had some shitty family members, excluding Mandy and Iggy, who didn’t do shit except maybe verbally and physically abuse them, he felt sadness well up in his chest.

“I came home from doin’ some stupid shit one day, couldn’t have been more than five or six, and I saw her just lying right by the front door, shakin’ so damn hard I thought even the neighbors would feel it. I did what that doctor told me to do and when I ran to go call someone for help, I came back and she wasn’t movin’ anymore.”

“Shit, Mickey.” Ian wasn’t going to give his apologies; that wasn’t something that neither of them did in their relationship. He knew that the last thing Mickey would want is any type of sympathy for him and his fucked up family, instead he said the best thing he could think of.

“Well that doesn’t matter right now. What you did today was amazing and I’m fucking proud of you.” He kissed him on the forehead and didn’t mention the tear that fell from one of Mickey’s eyes.

“Fuck off, Gallagher.” Mickey said shakily, with no real heat in his voice but allowed himself to be dragged into an embrace, Ian’s muscled arms wrapping around his waist from behind.

“You are so much more than what people think or say, Mickey.”

After than night, the rest of the Gallaghers, including Kevin, Veronica and Jimmy, seemed to open up even more to Mickey, to which he was at first surprised but then welcomed the feeling of belonging to a real dysfunctional, yet loving family.

The fact still remains that Liam’s seizures have been getting increasingly worse, to the point where he would accidently scratch himself, drawing blood. At that, Ian wonders how bad his seizure was this time around.

“Yo, you just gonna stand there and watch the pancakes make themselves or you gonna actually start cookin’?” He hears come from behind him, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Huh?” Ian questions dumbly.

Mickey furrows his eyebrows and stares at him.

“Fuck’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit, I’ve known you for damn near 10 years, Ian, you can’t bullshit me; no one can bullshit a Milkovich, period.”

Ian lets out a heavy sigh and turns around to lean against the counter, arms crossing his chest.

“Liam…I don’t know what we’re gonna do about him. What if it turns out that he does have-”

“‘Ay!” Mickey interrupts angrily. “No one’s gonna fuckin’ have anythin’, especially not Liam. The fuck did I tell you all, huh?”

Ian drops his head and mumbles out an answer.

“What?” Mickey snaps, stepping closer to his lover.

“Liam is a fucking Gallagher and we Gallaghers fight.” Ian huffs out.

“E-fuckin’-xactly, so I don’t wanna hear anymore shit about this goddamn brain tumor, he’s fine.” With that Mickey walks over to the coffee machine to pour himself some, knowing that Ian couldn’t have any since he just took his meds; which he only knows because he counts them.

Ian desperately wanted to scream at Mickey for sounding like such a careless asshole, but he knew it’s Mickey’s way of expressing that he’s worried too. They both know that the best thing they can do, that they can all do, is just be there for him. Even though Ian and Mickey stay over at Mickey’s more often than not, only going to Ian’s when Yevgeny wanted to play with the Ball twins, in which case the three of them would sleep over at the Gallaghers or when Ian and Mickey wanted to get away from the sound of Nika and Svetlana rubbing their pussies together, they knew that they would have to stay over there for a while and join in on making sure Liam is alright and has everything he needs.

Even if that means having to deal with the curious looks and most likely, questions, from them all about what was going on downtown in Mickeyville.

It would be easy to transition from the Milkovich home to the Gallagher household because Ian still kept a good amount of his shit there, mainly his clothes, just usually walking around Mickey’s place wearing just the same old sweats sometimes, and Mickey would wear and use some of Ian’s things.

So, with that decision set in place, Ian goes about making breakfast, planning on explaining his choice to his boyfriend over breakfast.


	5. Chapter 5

Making sure they had everything that they’ll need for Yevgeny, including diapers, his sippy cup, some clothes and a couple of toys, Mickey and Ian had gotten into Mick’s car, along with Yevgeny, whom was sitting on Ian’s lap, and drove off away from the Milkovich house.

It had been unexpectedly easy to convince Mickey to stay over at the Gallagher house for a couple of weeks and Ian suspected it was because he was secretly concerned about the well-being of Liam as well. After finishing up in the kitchen, Ian gone to take a brief shower, Mickey began packing a couple of things for himself and Ian, and some more shit for Yevgeny.

Mickey had gone out to the living room and informed Svetlana and Nika of him, Ian and Yevgeny’s departure and how they’ll be over at the Gallaghers for awhile. Svetlana’s eyebrows had shot up in surprise while Nika rolled her eyes uncaring about what the boys were going to do, turning back to her conversation with the whores after being rudely interrupted by Mickey’s entrance.

Svetlana had followed Mickey unknowingly back into his bedroom, where Ian stood stark naked rifling through the drawers for some clean boxers and pants to put on. Before Mickey could close the door behind himself, she stopped it with her hand, red-painted nails glinting almost devilishly in the sunlight coming in from the bedroom window.

“The fuck?” Mickey exclaimed, turning around to see who was in the way.

“You and orange boy taking Yevgeny with you?” She asked while stepping in the bedroom, leaning against the doorway.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said, right? Now get the fuck out!” Mickey said while walking over to reach into the bottom drawer of the dresser, pulling out the very clean clothes Ian was looking for and setting it on the bed.

“You don’t ask first?” She asked while putting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes threateningly at Mickey.

Ian had turned around when he saw Mickey throw the clothes onto the bed, careless of his dick swinging around, letting Svetlana get an eyeful of a more than average sized dong. She rolled her eyes when she saw Mickey backhand Ian in the stomach, yelling at him to put his fucking clothes on.

“Relax, butt boy, like I have not seen your man’s skin stick before.”

Mickey’s head snapped up at that, looked at her, then at Ian and back at his ex-wife when Ian just shrugged his shoulders.

“Fuck d’ya mean, “like you have not seen it before”? I find out some shit’s goin’ on-”

“Mick, really? C’mon, she likes eating blonde carpet for dinner and I like-”

“Eating same thing.” Svetlana finished for him in her heavy, Russian accent, while looking at them almost as if she were extremely bored with the conversation taking place, yet intrigued by the frozen looks upon their faces, especially Mickey’s.

“What the _fuck_ -”

“Please, like I never hear you. These walls, not so thick, yes?” She questioned teasingly, while knocking her curled index finger against the white wall beside her head. “You hear me and Nika, we hear you too; _you_ are very loud.”

Ian began to laugh when she directed her last four words towards his boyfriend, but coughed when Mickey turned hate-filled blue eyes towards him.

“How the fuck do you know that when we’re talkin’ it’s not some slang shit for my ass, huh? Fuckin’ riddle me that!”

“I walk by room once, and door wasn’t closed,” at this Mickey’s face blanched, Svetlana smiled deviously and continued, “you ride cock like professional, getting yourself to cum so wild like that, maybe give us girls pointers, yes?”

By then, Mickey’s whole face was a pale white and he flopped down onto the bed, speechless, Ian, now fully dressed, was still cracking up, all the while dressing Yevgeny who woke up when Ian had gotten out of the shower.

“Anyway, be careful with ‘Geny, if I find something has happened,” and Ian shook his head, still grinning a bit, knowing that another of her famous threats was about to spew from her mouth. “I rip off orange boy’s fuck stick and use it to beat you to fucking death with it, in which then I tag Nika in and help her-”

“Alright, we get it, ‘Lana, we’ll be mutilated horribly if something happens.” Ian supplied, getting everything ready, now that him, Yevgeny and Mickey were all dressed, had everything packed and eager to go. “Now, some house rules.”

“Don’t bother, I live in crappy house for years, I know what to do and how to do it.” She said walking over to her son and giving him a kiss on his short and straight, blonde hair covered head.

“Oookaaayy. Well, I guess we’ll see you later then.”

“Yea, whatever.” Svetlana replied, turning to leave the bedroom and go back to Nika and the other whores. “And, give chocolate boy my regards.” And with that she left.

Ian wanted to correct her and explain that was a bit fucked up way of calling Liam that, but he really didn’t have the desire and patience to argue with her, so he let it be and felt a bit of happiness that she acknowledged his family, she must’ve heard he and Mickey’s conversation in the kitchen earlier.

Grabbing up the bags, with Yevgeny placed on his hip, he walked over to Mickey, still looking ghostly white, which sounded impossible due to his naturally pale skin. Ian just let out an annoyed sigh and began making his way out of the room.

“Mickey, it’s not that serious, I mean sure it’s rare, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. You know that neither Svetlana nor Nika are gonna tell anyone, so just calm down, let’s go.” He explained leaving the bedroom completely.

Finally arriving at the Gallaghers, Ian still thinks back to Mickey’s facial expression when Svetlana mentioned knowing about his “fuck fest”. In the beginning, Ian had felt just as strongly as Mick about not wanting anyone else but he and Mickey knowing about his uniqueness. People always say that it’s good to have something to yourself that no one else knows about but now that his family, his neighbors, as well as Mickey’s family knew about what they were trying to not necessarily hide, but prevent its discovery at the eyes of others as much as possible, Ian felt that it was pointless to worry over it anymore.

Letting themselves in through the back of the house, Ian makes his way up the stairs with Yevgeny and the bags. Knowing that nobody should be home right now, mainly due to work and school respectively he made himself at home once again. Liam would be there but because of his latest serious medical problem, they felt it best to let him stay home from school for a few days, and Fiona had informed Ian earlier in the form of a text message that she would be taking their baby brother to the doctor that day.

Setting Yevgeny down on his bed, thankful to whoever had changed the sheets, most likely Fiona, Ian takes a few toys out of one of the bags and sets it in front of the kid to have something to occupy himself with.

Jogging back down the stairs, Ian sees Mickey reaching into the refrigerator for the fruit punch to fill up Yevgeny’s sippy cup and he calls out to him.

“Hey.”

Mickey looks up from his task at hand and nods his head in acknowledgement, closing the lid of the cup once he finished and walking back towards the fridge to place the punch back onto the shelf.

“You good?”

“Why wouldn’t I fuckin’ be?” Mickey mutters, raising one dirty-blonde colored eyebrow.

“Jeez, Mick, why so defensive?”

“Where’s the kid?” Mickey asks, ignoring Ian’s question.

“Upstairs, playing.”

Mickey walks in the direction of the stairs, intent on going up to hand ‘Geny his cup, but Ian had other ideas in mind.

“If this is about-”

“About nothin’, fuck off ‘a me, Gallagher.” Mickey brushes Ian’s hand off of his thermal covered arm, and continues up the stairs.

Ian stares after him for a few seconds, until he looks away and lets out a heavy sigh, hands reaching up to run over his head in frustration. He knew Mickey’s current attitude must somehow be in relation to what’s going to occur when the rest of the Gallaghers and Jimmy get home and Ian just knows that that situation would most likely end up blowing up into World War III times 100. _Oh well_ , Ian thinks while making his way up the stairs, _better to get the oncoming shit storm out of the way now than wait ‘til later_.

\---------

Ian and Mickey wake up once they hear footsteps stomping around and a door slamming shut beneath them.

Slowly sitting up from his place behind Mickey, pressed up against the wall, Ian rubs his eyes and yawns, mouth opening wide and jaw briefly cracking. Noticing Mickey was already swinging his legs over the side of the bed, leaning down to pick up his jeans and pull them on, about to get up and go see where his son was since he was no longer playing on Liam’s bed, Ian stops him by grabbing his hand, skin still claiming the FUCK U-UP tattoo.

“What?” Mickey mumbles tiredly, looking back at his boyfriend.

“It’s gonna be alright, okay?”

“Fuck off, Gallagher, I’m not some pathetic little bitch who can’t deal with a bunch ‘a stupid fuckin’ questions.” He replies, yanking his hand out of Ian’s broad one, and walking out of the room.

Ian sits there surprised that Mickey’s mood had changed so quickly, but he immediately brushes it off because he knows the reason for it.

He shakes his head and follows Mickey out of the room, down the stairs and coming to a halt behind a frozen Mickey, staring into the silence-filled kitchen, at the shocked faces of his family and of course Jimmy.

“Uh…family meeting?” Ian suggests sheepishly.

The seconds continues to tick by in silence before Fiona finally speaks up.

“Yeah…” she grits out through her teeth tersely, her eyes wide and crazed-looking with a burning anger towards Ian and his lover, “yea, that would be wise.”

Everyone appears to have gotten the unspoken message from Fiona when they all took seats at the kitchen table, with Lip sitting on one side of Ian and Debbie sitting on his other side, which is probably done purposely so Mickey would sit a few seats down from Ian.

“Now-”

“Daddy!” All heads turn to the source of interruption that had prohibited Fiona from beginning her speech.

Yevgeny runs up to where Mickey’s seated at the table, right by the kitchen counter and he lifts his stubby arms up in the universal sign of kids for his daddy to pick him up.

“The fuck you come from?” Mickey inquires, yet reaching down to pull his son up into his lap anyway.

“Yevvie!” Liam calls out excitedly once he sees the mini-Mickey, to which Yevgeny replies with a loud “L’am!”, his arms now reaching out towards the other boy, desiring to play with him.

Seeing Fiona begin to get impatient, not that he really gives a fuck but he still wants to get this crazy shit crackin’ and rollin’, he gently pushes his son’s hands down, shaking his head slightly when he hears him start to whine and pout.

“You can play with him later, here.” He says while handing ‘Geny his sippy cup, making Ian raise his eyebrows in wonder since he didn’t even see Mickey carry it out of the room with him.

“Can I continue?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, can you?” The tattooed man shoots back rudely.

“Mickey.” Ian warns, eyeing his boyfriend with an exasperated look upon his face, only sitting back when he sees him roll his eyes, turning to focus his attention on the worn down table in front of him.

“Ian, why’re you guys here? You shot out of here yesterday like your ass was on fire and now you’re back? What’s up?” Fiona asks him.

“I, well we, me and Mickey, decided that it would be best if we were to stay here and help out with Liam, you know, like watch him and stuff. Make sure he’s doing okay and’s got everything he needs.” Ian gets out confidently.

“But what about Svetlana?” Debbie questions, resulting in Mickey shifting his eyes towards her.

“She’s fine with it.” He clenches his jaw thinking about him and Ian’s earlier conversation with her.

Jimmy notices and puts in his own two cents.

“Sure about that?”

“The fuck wouldn’t I be, Fishman?” Mickey sneers in his direction.

“It’s actually Li-”

“He knows what it is, Jimmy, he’s just being an asshole because we all walked in on him with his legs spread wide like a-”

“Fiona, calm down.” Lip stops her before she says something they know she’ll regret.

Ian had tightened his fists when he heard his big sister about to call Mickey some demeaning name but when he saw Mickey just sat there with a bored look on his face, he thought if Mickey Milkovich could keep his cool, well so could he.

Fiona lets out a deep sigh and digs the heel of her hands into her eyes, while Lip gets up and gets everyone beers, with the exception of Yevgeny, Liam and Debbie, who’s claimed that beer is nasty, he gets her a cup of juice instead.

“So, can you get a period?” Carl asks unexpectedly after a couple minutes of silence.

“Carl!” Both Debbie and Fiona scream, while Lip, Ian and Jimmy spit out their drinks, guffaws echoing throughout the house, with Liam and Yevgeny breaking out in squeals of laughter as well, despite not really knowing what was happening.

Mickey just sits there, his body resembling that of a statue, blocking out the sounds of laugher and Fiona and Debbie scolding a careless-looking Carl.

“I fuckin’ do actually.” Five pairs of eyes widened immensely and the uproar stops when they hear the quiet response tumble from Mickey’s mouth.

“No fuckin’ way,” Lip breathes out, shocked, meeting Mickey’s eyes diagonally across of him, who has a look on his face as if daring Lip to say anything. “I never knew that you could really _bleed_ from there!”

They all turn to him, confused by what Lip meant.

“Of course you wouldn’t know that, Lip, we found out just yesterday that the boy has a snatch.” Fiona tells him, her head tilted to the side in puzzlement.

Lip broke the eye contact that prolonged with Mickey throughout Fiona’s statement and clears his throat.

“Uh, right, right…I was just surprised is all.” Lip lets out lamely, scratching behind his head and picking up his bottle-necked beer, taking a sip from it coolly.

The weird moment went over all of their heads, except for Ian’s, whose eyes narrowed slightly in wonder about the exchange between his boyfriend and older brother. _I’ll ask him about it later_ , he promised himself silently, staring at Mickey.

Mickey scratches his eyebrow in an almost nervous, yet agitated gesture.

“Anybody else got anything else they wanna fuckin’ say?”

“Wait, wait, hold on, you have a _what_? You’re a fucking guy!” Jimmy yells out, having sat in absolute amazement at what Fiona had said about Mickey.

“Oh shit that’s right, you weren’t there!” Carl laughs out, pointing towards Jimmy, amused.

“I wasn’t where? Is that why everyone was acting so weird around here last night? Is this the “nothing” thing that Mickey was talking about?” Jimmy lists out, wanting to know just what the hell is going on.

“Oh no, is he going to have a breakdown like he did when he found out his father was secretly gay?” Ian groans out, dropping his head onto a closed fist leaning on the edge of the table.

“Fuck you, how was I supposed to know that he was craving teenage dick with a side of gingerbread?” Mickey had snapped his head up at Jimmy’s statement, and let out a dangerous “What?” to which Jimmy ignored and continued on. “And you’re one to talk, since apparently your boyfriend has a fucking… pussy!” Jimmy curses at Ian.

Ian just shakes his head and chuckles, while picking up his own beer bottle between his index finger and thumb.

“Jimmy, long story short, we all came home from the hospital yesterday and we caught Ian…” Fiona stops, trying to find the right words to explain the particularly traumatizing sight they all witnessed.

“Trying to devour Mickey whole through his snatch?” Debs supplies helpfully, gaining a hissed “Debs!” from her big sister.

“Holy shit, really?”

“Yep, and we even found out that he’s a squirter. He should definitely be entered in one of those squirtin’ contests in the porn industry or somethin’.” Lip cracks out, eyes twinkling with mischief, ignoring Mickey’s heated glare.

“Whoa, really? I can’t believe we missed that!” Carl says annoyed that he missed something like that. Regardless of the fact that Mickey’s a guy, he’s still in possession of a fully functioning pussy and Carl’s been wondering what the guys at his school were talking about when they mentioned girls pushing liquid out, sometimes as far as a couple of feet out in front of them, maybe even further. “Was it a lot? Did it look cool?”

Sure Carl’s fucked a few girls here and there, he’s 16 and a Gallagher, and it seems to be ingrained within the Gallaghers’ blood that sex and anything involving it is activated at an early age, but he’s never experienced a girl squirting before. Carl guessed he was still hung up on Bonnie, the girl who was living in a trailer home, in vacant lots, filled to the brim with an ass load of family members, whom also ditched him when he began to develop feelings for her. He thought that that experience would explain his lack of “skill”, as some girl had once told him, when he couldn’t satisfy her. But he wanted to be able to tell the guys back at school about him having seen someone squirt, though he may have to tweak the details about how it went down a bit.

They ignore Carl’s question and continue on with the crazy conversation.

“What I want to know is; can you get pregnant?” Debbie wisely asks, truly curious and trying to understand Mickey’s anatomy.

The unbearable silence made its way to the Gallagher table once again.

“I’ve been told that it’s impossible.” Mickey says lowly, avoiding anyone’s eyes.

“Why?” Fiona asks.

“Does it fuckin’ matter?” He shoots back at her.

“We’re just trying to understand-”

“And I told all of you that there’s nothin’ to understand!” Mickey shouts, but then quickly lowers his voice again, not wanting to deal with Yevgeny’s crying. “It’s my body, and my body alone to know about. Now, are we fuckin’ done or what?” His blue eyes glancing at everyone’s around the table, challenging them to say something else, lingering for a second on Lip’s, before moving away.

“Good,” he says lifting himself from his chair and dropping ‘Geny onto the now vacant seat, “I’m goin’ back to fuckin’ sleep, see you fucks in the mornin’.”

With that, Mickey runs his hands through his blonde hair messily, trekking up the stairs, ignoring the stares directed towards his black shirt-clad back.

The others still seated at the table, began to rise to go about their own business, except for Fiona and Ian. Debs had grabbed onto Yevgeny and took Liam’s hand to go with her to the living room to watch some cartoons, the two younger kids cheering along the way. Carl grabbed ‘Geny’s sippy cup on his way out and followed Debbie’s lead. Lip sat there for a few seconds, mulling over something in his head, yet before Ian or Fiona could ask what it was, he pulled his coat off of the hook, and yelled out a brief “Later!” before slamming the door shut behind himself. Jimmy grabbed his coat as well and when Fiona looked at him, he said a simple “Pizza” and she understood that to mean that was going to be their dinner that night.

Fiona and Ian found themselves alone in the kitchen, listening to the T.V. blaring a room away and the joyful noises being expelled from Yevgeny and Liam.

“So, you two are staying for…” Fiona draws out, fishing for how long she’ll be in the company of her younger brother and his newly-discovered intersexed, ex-con, pimp of a boyfriend.

“I don’t know, but we’ll stay as long as needed.” Ian lifts his head from his fist, which had stayed there for the duration of the conversation about Mickey, and stands to sit in the vacant seat next to Fiona. “Look, Fi, I know that I haven’t really been there for Liam, or for any of you, the past couple of years, but you know I do love all of you. Both my family _and_ Mickey’s scattered family. And I know that I’ve been turning my back on you guys but it’s not going to happen anymore. Yevgeny already loves all of you and even Kev, V and their twins. And you know damn well that Mickey, no matter how much of a douche-bag he may act like in front of you, cares for everyone as well.”

Fiona sits there in silence, listening to her little brother give his piece, feeling a couple of tears rise to her eyes, when she knew what was coming.

“But we’re _going_ to get through this; _all of us_. I’m not letting Liam go, you’re not letting Liam go and Mickey, _for damn sure_ , is not letting Liam go. You know why? Because we’re fucking Gallaghers and we Gallaghers fucking _fight_.” Ian repeats Mickey’s words and it feels good when he sees Fiona’s eyes widen and her head nod franticly, too choked up to actually speak, knowing that’s what she’s also said to him and the rest of their siblings and fuck heads who wanted to mess with them in the past. “We’re gonna be strong, okay? We’ll be strong for Liam, and if it does turn out that he…” Ian couldn’t finish the sentence but he knows Fiona will understand. “We’ll kick it in the _fucking_ ass.” Ian says with finality.

“You and him gonna kick in-”

“Of course we will, Fi, we’re not freeloaders, you know that.”

“Yea,” Fiona sniffles, using the sleeve of her sweater to wipe her eyes, successfully fighting the urge to burst out into tears from all of the stress she’s been under involving Liam and his sickness, “I do. And you’re right, we’re not going to let this setback stop any of us, I mean when has it before?”

“Never.” Ian laughs out, thinking back through some of the insane shit that they’ve all gone through.

“Exactly, come on let’s go and watch whatever weird-ass shit Debs has the kids watching this time. Let Mickey sleep, he looked ready to bite out somebody’s throat- wait, he says he gets his period, right?” Fiona looks to her brother while standing up.

Ian smiles and nods because he knows that she just figured out why Mickey seems more angry and pissed off than usual.

“Holy shit, don’t tell me he’s PMSing because his period’s on the way?” Fiona asks, a slow yet shocked smile sliding onto her own face.

“Bingo!”

“Shit, well he’s welcome to use me and Debs’ tam-”

“Ah!” Ian cuts her off, sticking his fingers in his ear. “I don’t wanna hear shit about anything relating to stopping up the crimson tide, I hear enough about it when Mickey’s yelling my goddamn ears off.”

Fiona just laughs, slapping Ian lightly over the back of the head, and walking towards the living room. She stops for a second, making Ian in turn stop and look at her. She smiles and he gives her one of his own, knowing that she’s silently thanking him and appreciates what he explained to her.

He just wraps one of his big arms around his older sister’s neck, having grown to stand a few more inches above her, one of her own arms snaking around his waist, and both of them walking to join their family.

 _We're definitely going to get through this_.


	6. Chapter 6

After two weeks of residing within the Gallagher abode, Mickey remembers why he and Ian had transitioned themselves over to his place instead those few years ago in the first place; it was a fucking madhouse here.

Debbie and Carl always arguing over one bullshit or another, which would get on Mickey’s nerves so much that he would actually yell at them, “Shut the fuck up about it, if you’re not gonna do shit!”, but of course they would ignore him and go back to fighting. At that point, he would just walk out of the room, leaving them to it. If it was Mandy and him screaming at each other, no matter how much they love one another, shit would end up looking like a goddamn typhoon blew through it once they finished their arguments, that’s how fucking intense their fighting was. But Debbie and Carl just push and shove and occasionally slap each other when they get into their petty disagreements.

Debbie’s slutty-ass friends would come over and just bother the ever-loving fuck out of him. Mickey’s messed around with a couple of girls in the past, most of whom were whores that his father would bring home or that Zago chick whom he only fingered once or twice, but he swears that these girls are 10 times worse than the whores that work up at the Alibi. One of them has even tried to flirt with him or some shit once, and it got so annoying that Ian had to step in, basically saying “back off bitch, he’s mine.”

Mickey was so glad that nobody at the family meeting that first night asked about how he managed to fuck girls what with his fuck fest going on and shit, only Ian knowing how he achieved those acts.

Carl and his ridiculous tendency to jerk off non-stop, shaking that whole damn bunk bed; it made Mickey wonder if the kid’s started chafing with all that harsh rubbing and tugging that he keeps forcing onto the poor little thing. Carl would even bring a few dumb broads over to the house and try and fool around with them silently on the top bunk, key word being _try_. Mickey would just roll his eyes, while Ian snored softly behind him, oblivious to Mickey’s hostility and his little brother’s sexual adventures.

Fiona running around trying to make sure the house is not on its way to collapsing or some shit like that, always cleaning up whenever they were suspecting a visit from child services since Debbie, Carl and Liam are still underage, making sure no harmful substances were out and about, just laying around. Even Mickey knew that she has no desire to go back to jail, having been there quite a few times himself; it sure as hell ain’t magical fucking unicorns and rainbows shooting out the asses of pixies up there.

Jimmy seemed to ignore Mickey whenever they came across one another, and Mickey was positive it was because he felt uncomfortable around him knowing about his true anatomy, which Mickey didn’t care one way or another as the only one who gets to see and play with it, is Ian. But Mickey could say he had somewhat of a mutual feeling about Jimmy, but it was more a feeling of annoyance than being uncomfortable.

Damn near all fucking night, a few days a week, the sounds of Jimmy and Fiona fucking could be heard throughout the whole goddamn house. Once again, the walls of Chicago houses don’t tend to be thick enough to even prevent a fucking drop of water from being heard through a solid floor, and if a drop of water could be heard so easily like that, imagine what possibly the whole goddamn fucking neighborhood can hear when Fiona and Jimmy are feeling a bit frisky.

The bed hitting the wall repeatedly, Fiona and Jimmy’s caterwauling like they were fucking animals in extreme heat, echoed and it made Mickey want to snatch up the closest thing by Ian’s bed, storm into their room and bash them over the fucking heads with said weapon so he could get to sleep, with some peace and quiet. More than once, Ian had to tighten his arm around Mickey’s waist to stop him from flipping out, his hoarse voice speaking softly into Mickey’s ear to just let it go and go back to sleep.

Mickey wanted to yell at Ian and say that he didn’t even get the chance to experience the pleasure of going to sleep yet if those two sex addicts a few rooms down shut their traps, but he let Ian nuzzle in close to the back of his neck and Mickey would snuggle backwards a few inches into his lover’s muscled chest, intent to follow his advice. He didn’t know how the others slept through that fucking riot, but when he thought about it, living in a house with Mandy and her endless encounters with strange men and boys, he figured it was something they got used to over the years.

Lip was the worst one of all. Mickey would feel his eyes on him _all_ the fucking time and it was starting to work his last nerve but he refrained from confronting him about it because he knew that it would rouse the others’ suspicions. The day after the family meeting, Ian had questioned Mick about what was going on between him and Lip, to which Mickey brushed off by saying, “Nothin’, your brother’s just a dick” and then walking out of the room. Lip had cornered him against a wall once but with a well-placed jab to his stomach courtesy of Mickey’s fist, he had quickly let Mick go about his day.

Mandy would come and stay over a few times out of the week since she and Lip seemed to be fucking around with one another again. One would think that she would’ve learned her lesson by now, especially after this would be the 50 millionith fucking time that they decided to mess around on and off together. Mickey guessed after the Kenyatta disaster and the few, or more like the _hundred_ few, guys after him, she just felt lonely. Sometimes he would hear Lip deep-dicking her as well, and that annoyed him just as much, if not a bit more, as Fiona and Jimmy’s antics in the bed.

Deep down inside he constantly wishes for sister to find someone who will truly take care of her and love her, not guys who fuck around behind her back and kick her ass when an ex-boyfriend shows their face. The shit she’s gone through in her life, mainly dealing with their father, Terry, he knows that she’s worth it and deserves some type of happiness. Not many girls would be able to handle the abuse that their father dealt out nearly every day in drunken and high fits of rage, and still crawl out broken and bruised yet able to face the world with a strong “Fuck you” attitude.

Kevin and Veronica would come over with their twins, Jemma and Amy, letting them play with Yevgeny and Liam, while they joked and laughed around with the rest of the Gallaghers. Their sex life though was something Mickey had no desire whatsoever to hear or even think about; they would talk about the craziest shit like doing webcam shows and V wearing strap-ons so she could fuck Kevin from behind, and V being able to fit up to four dildos within her whole body; Mickey would just stare at them in disbelief and disgust, wondering how they were able to continue to do all of that with twins running around.

Liam was the only one who didn’t make Mickey want to blow his fucking brains out; Liam most of the time just sat and played with Yevgeny, quietly babbling with him and giggling. Liam would call out to Mickey sometimes and he would flop down onto the floor beside the kid and play with him, he would even vent some of his frustrations out to Liam, even though he would just giggle and make baby-like noises.

Since the Coke Accident, because of the damage to his brain, Liam could only get out a few words when it comes to trying to hold a conversation. He could read fine, it’s just processing the message to turn it into speech that Liam’s brain lacks. The doctor said that in a few more years he should be talking perfectly with maybe the slightest speech impediment, but for now it’ll be like when he was five years old again.

But overall, Mickey knows that he’s glad to be here for Liam and he can actually say that he likes enjoying the Gallaghers’ company once in a while, despite how completely psychotic they are but he’s one to talk with his own insane family.

Right now though, Mickey couldn’t give more than two shits because he had another task to focus on.

“Goddamn, Mickey…mm…take it in deeper, deep-thaaat’s it, _shit yes_.” Ian’s head tilts back against the door, teeth biting down on the corner of his lip, hands gripping onto the blonde locks leveled with his waist.

Kneeling on his knees, Mickey deep-throats Ian’s cock with enthusiasm; one hand splayed out, resting, a couple of centimeters above ginger-colored pubes on Ian’s abs, while his other hand was curled around the base of his lover’s dick, twisting and jerking as he had the other seven inches of erect cock shoved deep in his throat.

Relaxing his throat, Mickey slowly removes his hand and allows for the rest of the length to travel further in his mouth, until his lips and nose hit the base of the dick.

“Fuck, yes, Mick, deep-throat the _shit_ out of that cock.” Ian groans out, one hand tightening in Mickey’s hair while the other moves to hold onto the doorknob behind him.

Mickey begins swallowing around the girth within his mouth, spit beginning to pour from his tautly stretched lips and when he began to gag a bit, he pulls back slowly and goes for it again, gaining a bit of speed. Ian glances down and he nearly blows his load with what he sees. Mickey choking on his monstrous dick, blue-eyes rolling to the back of his head as if he was the one being given a heavenly hummer; he looks so good like this.

When they had come home from their shift at the Kash N’ Grab, they realized no one was home and they took advantage of the opportunity. Mickey has his period, so he didn’t want to do anything penetrative, so he offered up a blowjob to Ian who agreed without hesitation. Not wanting to get caught like last time, since the lock on the door didn’t seem to work, Mickey had closed the bedroom door behind them and pushed Ian up against it, so in case anyone wanted to interrupt, Ian could use his big body to deny them access. Two weeks with no sexual relief equated to Ian about to spurt his milk all over his boyfriend’s face and neither of them wanted any distractions.

“Shit, hold on, baby, I want to fuck your face, there we go, take that dick, take it.” Ian gets out gruffly, hands holding onto either side of Mickey’s face, his length shoving in and out of his mouth.

Mickey groans and allows Ian to face-fuck him, saliva and pre-cum sliding down his chin, making an overall mess. When breathing through the nose no longer became possible to get in enough oxygen, he made an insistent “hm”-ing noise and smacks Ian lightly on his side.

Ian, eyes glazed over about to cum, slows his hips and brings his gaze down in wonder. Mickey pries Ian’s fingers from his hair and pulls his drenched mouth from Ian’s dick, replacing his mouth with his hand and jerking it slowly.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Gallagher, you tryin’ ta’ choke me to death?” Mickey pants out, still twisting his hand over Ian.

“Put me back in your mouth, I want to cum deep in your throat, fill you with it ‘til that shit’s coming out your fucking eyes.”

“Give me a chance to suck in some fuckin’ air first- aagh.” Mickey doesn’t get a chance to finish as Ian shoves himself back into his lover’s mouth, making Mickey cough and gag before getting the urge under control and starting up the sucking again, but right after giving Ian a dirty look, in which he gets a sexy smirk in return.

Ian sucks in a breath of his own, pursing his lips in pleasure and speed picking up once again, thrusting in and out of Mickey’s mouth quickly. Mickey brings his hand up again to the bottom of Ian’s tumescent prick, starting up his jerking hand once again, his other hand ventures down to his Firecrotch’s cum-heavy ball sack and begins to roll and rub them around in his hand, satisfied when he begins to hear the groans above him increase in volume and frequency.

Mickey feels himself becoming wet in his briefs, the idea of him being able to make Ian feel like this, sending an addictive rush through his body, but his slick mixes in with that of the blood flowing from his opening onto the pad beneath it, making him shift uncomfortably.

Increasing his speed to hurry things along, Mickey doubles his efforts to make his man cum, and Ian stutters his hips, hands clenching almost painfully in Mick’s hair, eyes fluttering closed and he lets out a long, deep groan that rumbles throughout his whole body, Mickey feeling it through the tips of his fingers and tongue still wrapped around Ian’s cock.

He hums and that action sets Ian off, cum bursting forth from his weeping dick-slit, and slithering its way down Mickey’s hungry gullet. Mickey chokes for a second, surprised at the amount Ian shot out of himself, but then resumes sucking him down, trying to coax all of the cum out of him.

A few seconds later, Ian pushes gently on Mick’s head, complaining about being too sensitive, and with one last suck and brief flick of the tongue over the tip of Ian’s penis, Mickey gives it a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss and pulls off completely, slapping the back of his hand to Ian’s stomach in a ‘you’re welcome’ gesture.

Seeing that Ian seemed to be incapable of moving for a couple of seconds, Mickey carefully grabs his soft dick, wipes it clean with a shirt he finds on the floor and tucks it back into the ginger’s pants, zipping him up and closing his pants fully.

“There ya go, Gallagher, you good?”

“Mmm, yea…thank you so much, baby.” Ian says pulling Mickey towards him by the waist of his jeans, after Mickey cleans his face with a different shirt that he found discarded to the left of him.

“Mhm, anytime, Firecrotch, mm.” Mickey reaches a hand to wrap around the back of Ian’s neck, the other cupping his jaw, while his lover wraps his thick arms around Mickey’s waist, leaning down to plant a deep kiss upon his swollen, cherry red lips.

Ian’s tongue wrestles playfully with that of the shorter male’s, tasting his own spunk that Mickey just swallowed, moist smacking sounds echoing throughout the room, and it nearly makes Mickey’s knees go weak, but he pushes Ian away, telling him that he needed to go check on something.

Ian lets him go, slapping his ass roughly, making Mickey flip him off on his way to the bathroom.

He loves it when he and Mick engage in some type of sexual activity, because at the end of it, Mickey is all nice and pliant, accepting of any and every thing that Ian does, though there are times when Mickey can be nice without any incentive, but these times are one of the best.

Walking over to sit on the bed, a thought comes to his head when he sees one of ‘Geny’s toys lying innocently on the floor.

“Shit, we gotta pick him up from school,” he mutters under his breath, while grabbing Mickey’s keys from off the dresser beside the bed, since they opted to walk that morning to the Kash N’ Grab because it was nice out, and yells out to his boyfriend, “Hey, Mick!”

When he doesn’t get an answer, he goes over to the bathroom door out in the hall and knocks, before opening it and peeking his head in.

“You takin’ a shower?” He asks confusedly, once he hears the shower running and the tell tale sound of soap, skin and water blending together.

“Yea, I got myself too horny down there and feels gross, and plus I still have your fuckin’ man juice all over my face.” He hears Mick’s voice call out from behind the curtain.

Ian throws his head back and laughs. “Well, I have to go pick ‘Geny up from school-”

“Oh, fuck, I completely forgot about that.” Mickey pops his head from around the curtain.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll go do it, you stay here and take your shower, it’s not gonna take no more than 20 minutes, so relax.” Ian placates him softly, going over to give him a brief peck before walking out the door, closing it behind him and jogging down the stairs. He smiles when he hears a garbled “Thanks!” from upstairs.

\-------------------------

Ian pulls up to the curb of Yevgeny’s elementary school and sees him playing around with some of the other kids waiting for their parents or guardians to pick them up. Ian just takes a moment and watches him adoringly, noticing how much he looks like his daddy yet his personality is the complete opposite of both Svetlana and Mickey. Though Svetlana isn’t anywhere near as much of a mean asshole that Mickey sometimes makes himself out as, she herself can admit that she can be a cold, threatening bitch when it really comes down to it.

But the mini-Milkovich is so carefree and friendly, trying to become friends with even strangers, which Mickey flipped out over once when he saw a strange man talking to his son, with little Yevgeny just waving his fat fingers around in glee. But then everyone would say that he’s only in kindergarten, give him a few more years before he turns into someone like Carl. Ian shakes his head fondly thinking about his insane little brother and his terroristic antics and gets out the car to go and surprise the happily squealing kid.

\--------------------------

Now in the boys’ shared room, towel wrapped around his waist, Mickey opens Ian’s drawers and finds one of the ginger’s shirts, scoffing incredulously when he sees how small it is, since Ian’s grown significantly bigger over the last few years, and instead goes into Ian’s bag, fishing out one of his workout shirts, pulling it over his head, after applying some deodorant to his underarms. He then lets the towel fall from around his waist, bending over to dress himself in his own dark blue boxers and black sweatpants.

“Nice view, Milkovich.”

“The fuck you want, Gallagher?” Mickey demands, not even bothering to turn around as he heard the other man’s footsteps walking up the stairs a couple of seconds ago, continuing with his dressing.

“Well, I want to know when we’re going to, uh, talk about that _thing_ from a few years ago.” Lip Gallagher says, his eyebrows raised, eyes round and big in impatience.

“Fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?” The other boy going to walk out the room, with his own eyebrow lifted in mock confusion.

Lip grabs Mickey’s arm, yanking the boy towards himself, before he could step out of the room.

Mickey glances down at the man’s large hand holding on tightly to his upper arm, and then makes eye contact once again with the man.

“You wanna fuckin’ lose that arm?” He sneers dangerously at Lip.

“You know what the fuck I’m talking about Mickey and you don’t fucking scare me.” Lip hisses moving so he was nose to nose with the smaller male.

“Yeah?” Mickey raises both his eyebrows and bites his bottom lip, that look that he gets before he’s about to flip out on someone.

“Yeah and all I know is-”

“Why the fuck you bringin’ this shit up for? You wanna fuckin’ die an early death, huh?”

“Didn’t I just say-”

“I’m not talkin’ about me college-boy, I’m talkin’ about Ian!” Mickey spits out into Lip’s face whose eyes now resembled that of fucking saucers. “Yea, didn’t think about that shit did you?”

“Look, that’s actually why I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Does Ian know anything about what went on?”

“Does Mandy know anythin’ about what went on?” Mickey snidely says back.

“It was a mistake-”

“Both times you mean? Yea, I fuckin’ know it was a mistake, but Ian nor Mandy is goin’ to think of it that way. Not only did you do it once, you did it fuckin’ twice! You know what he’s gonna do if he finds out it didn’t happen not only once, but two fuckin’ times? Our bodies will be found two states away in a trench somefuckin’where!”

“I did it twice? Now, see if I remember it correctly, you were a fully willing participant, or were you faking-”

“Fuck you.” Mickey pushes Lip forcefully away from him. “You don’t know shit about what I was goin’ through at the time.”

“Oh please, you were fucking begging for me to-”

“Lip…Mickey? You guys up there?” They both turn towards the open bedroom door, frozen.

Once they hear footsteps on the stairs, Mickey snaps his head towards Lip.

“Forget about what happened back then, you don’t fuckin’ mention it, I don’t fuckin’ mention it. Don’t you have Mandy to go fuck around with instead of standin’ here botherin’ me?” Mickey says the last sentence loud enough for Ian to hear, so he doesn’t get suspicious about anything.

“Hey, what’s up Lip?” Ian sets Yevgeny down on Liam’s bed once he enters the room, while walking over to his brother and giving him a pat on the back.

“Hey, man, nothin’ just about to go and chill in the living room, wait for Mandy, you know?”

Ian just nods his head, watching him walk out the room and begins telling Mickey about how much different ‘Geny is from him.

Mickey just nods and shakes his head, absently inputting a few words to make Ian think he’s listening.

 _No one has to know, especially not him_. Mickey thinks while laughing at something his son says.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying something new here, the thought to do so kind of occured to me when I was re-watching a couple of different parts in "Lazarus" (S04E12).
> 
> There's going to be situations going on with a few other characters that I'll hit upon, but the main focus is on the relationship of Ian and Mickey.
> 
> A few things are going to blow up soon, don't quite know when, some of you have probably already figured some of it out, but yeah.
> 
> Kind of short chapter, sort of insignificant; writer's block is a fucking bitch.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

Over at the Milkovich house, sunlight streams in through the bedroom window and Mandy Milkovich lifts herself slowly and as quietly as possible up from a tangle of limbs. Kneeling down to pick up her clothes scattered all over the floor, she leaves the room, closing the door silently behind herself, only letting the knob go when she was positive it wouldn’t make a noise.

Her naked feet padding lightly across the hardwood floor, Mandy makes her way to the bathroom all the way at the end of the hallway.

Splashing water all over her face and staring at her reflection in the mirror, she breaks into tears, her hands covering her face, but then immediately steels herself; she’s stronger than this bullshit.

Sneaking from ‘Lana and Nika’s room for what seems like the 20th time now, Mandy knows she should at least be used to this crap.

Having once heard Svetlana and her girlfriend going at it in the middle of the night while they were the only three home (Mickey and Ian out somewhere, Iggy doing some bitch down at the Alibi and the whores probably down there too), Mandy was curious. She came across the two women groping each other, tits hanging out, Russian words being whispered heatedly and once they noticed her presence, she was invited to join. With a good amount of trepidation, she did.

And she felt that it was some of the best sex she’s ever had. Countless guys, excluding Kenyatta and Lip, had failed to bring her the amount of pleasure that Svetlana and Nika had made her experience, and she soon became addicted to that intense feeling of sexual gratification that was dealt out by the Russian women.

But she was still with Lip.

He hasn’t changed much from those few years ago, outside of his physical appearance, in which he grew up to be even more attractive than she thought possible.

Lip now standing a couple centimeters taller than Ian, his hair being shorn closer towards his head, not anywhere like Ian’s army look, but less wild-like with some gel being used to maintain a sort of spiked look; his arms still resembling that of water jugs, all large and solid, proportioned well with the rest of his body, though nothing too grotesque-looking like on those fucking bodybuilders.

But he’s made some improvements. He no longer treated her as if she wasn’t much to think about, giving her all his attention and he even helped her out financially. When he caught her working at that restaurant having to deal with greasy, old-looking ass-hats putting their hands on her, he had made a decision.

With the money already gained from that girl’s father, what’s her face, Amanda, he ditched that chick a couple of weeks later and instead did his best to weasel his way back into Mandy’s life, possibly back in her heart as well, first by helping her find a better workplace than the shithole she was working at.

Lip lately though seems to be having some type of shit on his mind. Twice, in the middle of fucking, both times being in the missionary position, Lip got limp while inside her and when she looked up at him with an “Are you serious?” face, he would just avert his eyes, shaking his head and pull out of her. When she tried to push for the reason behind his limp dick, he would just snub her, saying it was “nothing” and walk out of the room after pulling on his boxers, eyes furrowed in deep concentration over some private argument he was probably having in that dumb-ass intelligent brain of his.

So, because of that, off to ‘Lana and her lazy-eyed girlfriend she goes, where she lost herself to complete pleasure.

She doesn’t know if Mickey knows about what’s going on between his baby sister, his ex-wife and one of his whores, but she really doubts that he has any knowledge about the lesbian triangle she’s been involving herself in. She definitely knows Lip doesn’t know since he seems to be preoccupied about some other shit entirely to realize that his girlfriend is spending less and less time with him.

She has no idea how her life had come down to this, where she was straight just a few months ago (after kicking Kenyatta’s burly, abusive ass to the curb), fucking different guys to continuing a relationship with the guy who she’s banged more times than that fucked-up slut, Karen Jackson, to fucking around with not one but two lesbians, one which is a whore while the other is essentially her ex-sister in law.

 _They probably won’t give two fucks and a half anyway_ , she thinks, pushing the thoughts of Mickey and Lip to the back of her mind, splashing more water on her face to get rid of the redness bleeding into her eyes.

\---------------------------------

“Hey, you wanna go somewhere today?” Mickey turns his head from where he was watching some strange ass black and white show on the living room T.V., one eyebrow raised.

“What, like a date?”

Ian smiles and shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, where would you wanna go, I mean…” Mickey has now since turned the T.V. off and he walks past where Ian is sitting on the arm of the couch, to the kitchen to get a beer.

“Um, wherever you want,” Ian follows after him, and leans against one side of the entrance to the kitchen, eyes tracking his boyfriend’s every move, “I mean…we’ve been here nearly a month and we haven’t really had any time for ourselves. Liam seems to be doing fine, him and ‘Geny’s over at Sheila’s, Fiona’s out with Jimmy, Veronica and Kev at some party, I don’t know where the fuck Lip is, and Debbie and Carl are out with some friends.”

“Damn, everybody got plans ‘cept for us?”

“Yea, and I just thought, I don’t know, that maybe we could chill together before heading over to the store for our shifts.”

Mickey sets his beer on the counter, mouth curling at the corners and looks up at Ian, appreciating how tough and sexy he looks, with his ripped body and strong jaw- _Christ, I’m such a fuckin’ fag_ , he thinks, walking over to him.

Wrapping his arms around the taller man’s broad shoulders, Mickey replies.

“How about we go get some breakfast then?”

“Yeah?” Ian questions, tilting his head down to Mickey’s, eyes crinkling at the edges, his smile so radiant with the happiness of how far he and Mickey’s relationship has gotten over the years.

“Yeah, mm.”

Lips pressing together in a brief yet sweet kiss, Ian’s arms sliding around Mick’s waist, they share a few more pecks.

“Don’t mind me boys, just coming to seek some peace and quiet.” Frank Gallagher comes stumbling in through the back door, pun unintended, breaking the tranquil feeling of peace and love with the two men, still standing wrapped around each other by the entrance to the kitchen.

“The fuck you doin’ here?” Mickey snarls at the evidently drunk Frank, pissed at him not only because he interrupted a nice moment between him and Ian but also because he just didn’t like him. Period.

“Don’t you have to be somewhere at the back of a store in a freezer gettin’ your ass pounded?” Frank stops and looks at Mickey, truly curious, his head cocked to the side, eyebrows down low over his eyes and nose red from his earlier drinking.

“What do you need peace and quiet for, Frank?” Ian pulls Mickey closer towards himself, feeling his lover about to reach out and punch Frank in the throat.

“Ohh, Sheils has these kids over, and they’re loud as- just God Almighty, they wouldn’t shut _up_ and plus I had to give my ass a break; I feel like it just went ten rounds with an iron fuckin’ fist.” Frank grumbles out, his arms doing their usual over-exaggerated gesticulations, as he fishes a beer out of the fridge.

“Well Frank, one of those kids are yours, you do know that- wait, what?” Ian shakes his head in surprise once Frank’s last statement registers in their ears.

“What?” He turns around to look at them, already guzzling down the liquor.

“Nevermind, so, uh, have you even heard the news about Liam?” Ian asks, watching as Mickey makes his way up the stairs.

“Liam? Who’s- oh, little chocolate drop,” Ian swings his eyes toward the ceiling, biting his bottom lip hard to keep from yelling, “How’s he doin’ anyway? Anyone come by yet to claim him?”

Frank skips out to the living room, plopping down on the worn couch, chuckling at his own joke.

“Frank- you know what, fuck it, you don’t care, why would you?” Ian stomps over to the stairs, good mode dissipating with Frank and his bullshit, and continues. “You allowed for some muscle heads to take Liam for ransom to save your own ass.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I care very deeply for you little ungrateful shits, you’re livin’ in my house, under my roof…”

“Shut the fuck up, Frank... fucking drunk bastard.” Ian mutters as he goes up the stairs, tuning out whatever excuse-filled, untrue, spiel about them all owing him or some crap.

Forget about the fact that the piece of shit has never even been there for any of them, choosing to hobble in and out every once in a while, stinking to high heaven, with the smell of a brewery and street grunge emanating off of him. Always showing up whenever he needed something; nevermind about what his kids may need, as long as Francis Gallagher gets what he wants when he wants, everything’s okay. Ian and the rest of the family still don’t believe what Lip and Carl told them about Frank getting his ass arrested so Carl wouldn’t get in trouble; they just didn’t think it was true, and like Lip had uttered in dumbstruck shock that night, hell would fucking freeze over before Frank Gallagher were to ever help his kids out of a bind.

Ian and Mickey haven’t even seen Frank the past few weeks that they’ve been staying in the house; it’s not like they were in any rush to do so and they were both reluctant to even catching a glimpse of the drunkard.

“Hey, Mick, I don’t really- Holy shit.”

Mickey rolls his eyes and resumes running his fingers through his hair to try and tame the wild locks, grinning when he feels Ian’s heavy stare, that was roaming all over his body, intensify.

“You’ve seen me dressed up before, Firecrotch, what’s the problem.” He finally turns to face his boyfriend.

Ian’s eyes did a quick once over again, ingraining the image within his brain for some private inspiration if they were still going to miss opportunities to fuck each other’s brains out.

Dressed in a long-sleeved dark blue thermal that showcases his muscular arms, dark-washed skinny jeans, the same jeans Mickey wore that was the cause of his family discovering his boyfriend’s extra, yet missing piece of anatomy, clung snugly to his full ass and according to Ian, his nice legs, Mickey looks great. Though Ian was pretty sure that the jeans were the same ones that Mickey wore that night all hell broke loose at ‘Geny’s christening, but Mick assured him that those were shredded and burned, along with the memory of what went down, only they both would always remember how good it felt when Mickey screamed out at Terry, in front of a crowd of people, about how much he loves taking Ian’s cock.

Regardless, Mickey looks amazing; his signature clunky boots completing the look.

“Alright, Gallagher, enough with the staring, you ready?”

“Shit, yeah, let’s go…you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, baby, _Christ_.” Ian whispers out, eyes widened in awe, completely forgetting about the foul mood that fuck nut downstairs had put him in just a few minutes ago.

Mickey smiles, _really_ smiles, his crooked teeth, placed on full display with how wide he’s smiling, and he feels his cheeks heat up a bit under Ian’s observation and intense scrutiny.

“Yeah, yeah, enough of this faggy shit, let’s get going.”

“I may need to kick a few asses, with the way you look.” Ian jokes, descending the stairs and grabbing their coats from the hook downstairs in the kitchen, about to walk out the back door before he hears the front door being opened.

“Hell- wait, what, Dad? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at Sheila’s?” A nasally, unmistakable female voice calls out.

Sammi Gallagher and her son, Chuckie, met Ian and Mickey a few years ago, once Ian started feeling better enough to get out and about. They both were at Sheila’s house celebrating some shit that they’re all sure that the batty woman had made up, talking quietly with one another, while everyone else was laughing and eating, having an overall good time.

They were disrupted in their conversation however when they see a short, blonde-haired woman with a fat little kid trailing behind her, stopped in front of them.

“Can we help you with somethin’?” Mickey had asked a bit rudely, but Sammi seemed undeterred.

“Yea, I don’t think we’ve ever met, I’m Sammi, your older sister,” at this Mickey’s eyebrows had shot up into his hairline, and he had looked over at Ian, who had an unreadable expression plastered on his face. “And this,” she gestured behind herself, pulling the chunky boy forward, “is my son, Chuckie. You’re Ian, right?”

Ian and Mickey’s eyebrows now resembled each other, both pairs a few centimeters above their foreheads. And after a few seconds of awkward silence, Ian finally snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at the two figures looming over him and his boyfriend.

“Oh, _oh_ , right, yea, the others have mentioned you to me before; it’s nice to finally meet you. This is my boyfriend, Mickey.” After shaking hands with the woman, he did a quick head tilt to the man sitting silently beside him.

“Oh, wow, okay, I didn’t know you were-”

“Gay? Is that gonna be a fuckin’ problem?” Mickey stared at her with now only one eyebrow lifted.

“No, no, of course not, I was just surprised. It’s nice to meet both of you, Chuckie, say hi.”

Both Ian and Mickey’s eyes traveled down to the large kid standing next to Sammi, watching him as he rolled his eyes and raised his Vienna-sausage like fingers.

“Hi.”

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to your conversation, sorry to interrupt. See ya’.” With that, the two made their leave, saying hi to the others, before she made her way to Sheila, who was cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you have another sibling and now a fuckin’ nephew?”

“I guess so, I never got a chance to meet her, with y’know that shit-storm a while ago, I just knew about her, since Debs had first told me about her.”

“Well, we won’t be crossing paths often, her voice made me want to bash my head against the wall; she sounded like she had cotton stuffed up in her fuckin’ nose, all the way down her throat.”

“Stop it, Mick.” Ian had chuckled out, before taking a swig of his beer.

“No really, and then that kid, he looks like he’s had one too many candy bars, like that Gloop kid from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory-”

“Wait, you’ve seen Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?”

Mickey snapped his head towards him incredulously. “Why wouldn’t I have seen it; who hasn’t seen that LSD-trip filled movie?”

Ian scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. “You’d be surprised.”

“Well, look, if ‘Geny ever gets big like that kid, we’ll make his fat ass run around the block a few times, maybe have him run at the ass crack of dawn like you do; I mean seriously, that kid is a heart attack waitin’ to fuckin’ happen.”

Ian’s head being thrown back, his throat expelling loud deep-belly laughter had been his response to Mickey’s complaint.

Over the last couple of years they’ve known Sammi and Chuckie, Ian felt that they’re harmless, if a bit annoying at times, while Mickey couldn’t stand them. Every time those two came over to the Gallagher house, Mickey would groan and quickly leave the room, leaving Ian to make conversation with the woman. Since she and her son stayed over at Sheila’s, because she still seemed to be one of the very select few who still gave a fuck about Frank, it was rare when they would see her, which was something Mickey was quite thankful for.

So, once he heard that voice, he yanks Ian out the back door with him, quickly slamming the backdoor behind them both.

Running to the car, the two jump in and peel away from the curb, Ian once again laughing at Mickey’s reaction to his half-sister, while they drove to a nice little place a good 20 minutes away from the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I actually like Sammi, just like the rest of the Shameless characters, she's funny as hell and Chuckie is just hilarity all in itself.
> 
> Frank is one of my favorite characters, believe it or not, because let's be honest, there's really no show without Frank's drunk ass antics; but he is a complete douche-bag, asshole.


	8. Chapter 8

“Mm, this is some good shit; can’t even remember the last time I had somethin’ as good as this.”

Sitting in a booth, right next to the window, both Ian and Mickey talk, while enjoying their food.

“What, are you kidding? You do know you can cook like nobody’s business right?” Ian asks, wiping his mouth with his napkin before glancing out the window.

Mickey glances up from his plate from beneath his eyelashes to look at Ian, letting out a shy little laugh. “Thanks, but….”

“Aww, Mickey Milkovich gettin’ all shy over a little compliment about his cooking, who would'a thought?” Ian gushes out teasingly.

“Fuck off, why you always gotta get so happy, actin’ all girly for?” Mickey says rolling his eyes, smirking a little, with no real heat in his voice.

“Y’know what, Mick, I’d think since you do all the cooking, that makes you more girly than me, don’t ya’ think?”

Ian loves this and Mickey could tell with that smug smile creeping on his face.

“Whatever, likin’ what I like-”

“’Liking what I like don’t make me a bitch’…yeah, yeah, yeah.” Now it’s Ian’s turn to roll his eyes when he repeats the same sentiment that Mickey had uttered back in the Kash N’Grab, when he first started working security.

Mickey sniggers and resumes his eating.

\-----------------------------------

Walking down the street with a guy that she’s not entirely sure she wants to be left alone with, Debbie peeks up at the guy standing a good head taller than her.

For some reason she was tasked with having to go to the store to go pick up some more beer, vodka and other shitty drinks the teenager-filled party suggested. Of course, Debbie had to explain to them that she wasn’t old enough to buy it, and when they said to just steal some, she had rolled her eyes and was about to go sit back down. But then some already drunk asshole had to go and open his mouth about sending this 23-year old guy out with her so they can use his license to get the cheap liquor.

He wasn’t really that good-looking, body solid, but not anywhere near built, a large nose and spiked up, heavily gelled hair, clothes hanging off of his body like they were trying to run away from him and find a better looking dude to cling to, with a cocky attitude and nothing to be cocky about. After trying to make conversation with him, and failing to communicate, as well as constantly having to move uncomfortably away from him when he tried to put his hands on her ass or waist, they just decide to walk in silence.

Finally and thanking whatever Deity that’s lounging up in the sky, they arrive at the store but before she could go in, the guy pulls on her arm, dragging her a bit into the alley located right next to the medium-sized place.

\-----------------------------

“Well, that was good, thanks for the breakfast; it feels nice for somebody else to cook for me once in a while.” Mickey pats his stomach, satisfied, letting out a small burp.

“No problem, Mick, and hey, I cook breakfast for you!” Ian says in protest, pocketing his wallet.

“Yeah, no offense, Ian, but makin’ pancakes every morning for breakfast is not really cooking; it’s the same damn thing over and over.” Mickey scoffs.

“What? Well, you know what? I guess I’m not makin’ anymore pancakes for you then.” Ian pouts playfully, picking up his glass of water to take a few more sips before they left for their shift in 20 minutes.

“Whatever- looks like somebody’s about ta’ get their ass beat or maybe lucky, dependin’ on how you look at it.”

“What, you’re gonna beat my ass because I won’t make anymore pancakes for you? Make up your mind, Mick, jeez.”

“No, not you, dumbass, take a look over there.” Mickey motions his head to the window and Ian follows his gaze to across the street.

A young girl seemed to be having some type of conversation with some dude, who appeared to be getting more and more aggressive towards her. It wasn’t until they see the girl bring her knee up and slam it into the douche’s balls that Ian’s eyes widen in shock and Mickey bursts out laughing, gaining some attention from a few other patrons of the diner.

“Holy fuck! Looks like that bitch gained another set of balls after killin’ his; did you see how fuckin’ hard she- what? What’s wrong, Ian?” Mickey frowns up at his boyfriend who jumped up and was now throwing money down on the table as a tip.

“That’s my baby sister, Mick; it’s Debs, come on.”

Mickey now staring back out of the window beside him, witnesses as the girl storms from the entrance of the alleyway, obviously furious and probably a bit embarrassed at what just happened, stumbling a bit on some high-ass heels, face heavily painted, long red-curled hair whipping in the wind behind her.

“No way, your sister doesn’t dress like a fuckin’ slut, well your other sister does but not the little one.” Mickey shakes his head in disbelief.

“Mickey, I think I would know my own fuckin’ sister, let’s go!” Ian hisses out, eyes narrowed in barely concealed anger.

Mickey grabs his coat and hurriedly jumps up from his chair, knowing that Ian’s tone of voice left no room for disagreement.

He shivers a little, and Mickey knows that it isn’t from the cold outside. Now, Mickey ain’t a bitch, despite some of his preferences pertaining to a sexual nature, he’s not someone to get scared easily over anything or anyone.

But he’s also not as stupid as a lot of people like to think he is; if Ian is this angry over a situation like this, which is logical, Christ only knows how many times he’s had to kick some fuck head’s ass because they did something to Mandy, then Mickey doesn’t even want to imagine how pissed off he’ll be if he finds out about what went down a few years ago with him and some other guy.

“Hey! Fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ian yells out to the guy that was just kicked in the balls, who appears to be in temporary ignorance of the pain radiating from between his legs in favor of going after the girl who was the cause of it.

Several heads on the sidewalk and a few eyes from the restaurant swiveled towards the situation in wonder.

“Fuck off, man, shit’s between me and this slut.”

Mickey shakes his head once again yet feels his own blood boil because he knew that first off this dude just signed his own death certificate and secondly Debbie’s become like a second sister to him after a while of knowing and constantly interacting with one another; so for this faggot to insult her is like insulting both the Gallaghers as well as him, Mandy and little Yevgeny too.

Sure enough Mickey’s prediction rings true the moment he and Ian get across the street, Ian immediately starts swinging, beating the absolute shit out of the guy. Debbie’s now standing beside him, face completely slack in shock.

“Weren’t you supposed to be with friends or some shit?” Mickey has his arms crossed over his chest, still watching as his lover beats the brakes off of the guy who gave his baby sister a hassle.

“Aren’t you going to stop him?” Debbie points out toward the scene, her arm extended, face mirroring the definition of concern.

“Nah, but you can answer my question first, the fuck are you doin’ with a shithead like this.”

Hesitating a little, Debbie opens her mouth to respond, but the wail of police sirens interrupts her.

“Shit, Ian, we gotta go.” Placing his hand on the ginger’s back, corded muscles contracting and retracting with every powerful blow he delivers, but Ian ignores him.

“Yeah (punch to the side of the head), is it my business now (punch to the ribs), you sick fuck? What are you, like 25 trying to force yourself onto a 16-year old girl (punch to the nose)?!” Ian screams the last part in the guy’s bloody, nearly unrecognizable, face, his own face colored beet red in fury.

“Police! Stop!”

“Fuck, Ian, get off’a him ‘fore you go to prison!” Ian listens, giving the guy one last kick to the head, before allowing Mickey to push him away, grabbing Debbie’s arm, and running to the car.

Seeing the officers getting closer and closer, Mickey bends down onto his tip toes, crouching beside the bloodied and groaning mess of a guy.

“You may want to do yourself a favor and stay away from Debbie Gallagher unless you want her whole family to come and finish the job, and with the help of a Milkovich or two, you won’t be seen ever a-fuckin’-‘gain,” quickly standing up, Mickey runs down the street to where the car was still parked with Ian in the driver’s seat and Debbie occupying the back, he yells one last thing towards the body being lifted onto a stretcher, “tell your faggot friends too!”

Jumping into the car, Mickey slams the door shut and Ian shoots off down the street, Mickey laughing when the officer that was chasing after him, trips and falls from how fast they pulled off. All was quiet except for the panting breaths from the adrenaline of getting away from some pigs.

“You didn’t have to do that, Ian, I can take care of myself, I actually already took care of it before you had to run over- what are you guys doing out here anyway?” Debbie asks, her face contorted in wonder.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it, what the fuck were you doin’ with that guy, Debbie? He looked like he was in his fuckin’ late twenties!”

“‘Ay, relax.”

Ian listens to Mickey and lets out a deep breath, hands loosening in their tight grip on the steering wheel.

“And what’s all that shit on your face?”

“It’s makeup, Ian; you’ve seen me wear some before.” Debbie rolls her eyes, taking out her phone and starting to text.

“Yea, but not it lookin’ all caked on like that!”

“I’m not a little kid anymore! I can where whatever the fuck I want! Don’t act like you’ve never worn makeup before neither, _Curtis_!” Debbie yells out.

Mickey’s eyes widen a bit, eyebrows shooting up at Debbie’s language and the fact that she knows about what Ian did back then once the army shit didn’t work out. He knows that neither he or Ian, or even the whole Gallagher family, as a matter of fact, aren’t necessarily the best of role models when it comes to having the best speaking etiquette and out of all of the Gallaghers, Debbie was the one who seemed to be the most reluctant to drink or curse.

But lately she’s been proving that the Gallagher traits don’t skip over anyone born as one.

A couple of weeks ago, Mickey had come down the stairs at around two in the morning, in search of a quick snack, to find her and one of those broads, some bitch with long blonde hair, she always hangs around with, sitting at the kitchen table talking about stupid shit and drinking straight up beer.

He had quickly turned around and went back upstairs though after grabbing his small pint-sized cup of ice cream out of the freezer and a spoon because he sure as hell didn’t want to sit down there and listen to two teenage girls, one of which had to be one of the biggest whores ever, talk about dudes and clothes and pointless girly shit. He also didn’t want to have deal with that dumb blonde trying to proposition him into fucking her; no thank you.

“Who the fuck are you talkin’ to like that?” They were now stopped at a traffic light, and Ian has half of his body turned around from the driver’s seat so he could look at his baby sister. “And what the fuck are you wearing? You look like one of the girls down at the Alibi! Where’d you get this shit from?!” Ian gestures angrily at the young girl’s body clad in a tight, mini-skirt, with black severely ripped stockings, tucked into what appears to be 3-inch, stiletto heels, and her torso covered in a strapless dark-red top, her own jacket placed over top of the top, zipped up halfway.

“I got it from one of my friends, thank you very much! She said that it looks amazing on me and that the guys will be all over me-”

“Yeah, they definitely were all over you, so much that you were about to get ass-fucked in an alleyway!”

“Ian, come on, man, I’m sure she fuckin’ understands and won’t do it again.” Mickey tries to put a stop to the violent turn the conversation was taking.

But Ian continues on as if Mickey didn’t say anything.

“Huh?! Your fuckin’ body could’ve been found mutilated in a goddamn trashcan somewhere! What if I didn’t come out here today? You think anybody else would’ve stopped to help you out?” Ian turns around noticing the light’s turned green and slams his foot on the accelerator. “I don’t fuckin’ think so!” He screams out with finality.

Mickey glances in the side view mirror and can make out a couple of tears escaping from the red-haired girl’s eyes, smearing her dark and heavy makeup. Despite the fact that years ago Mickey could honestly say he wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass if anything happened to Firecrotch’s little sister, but like mentioned before, Debbie’s become like another family member to him, and him seeing her in tears, her face obviously upset, it hit a nerve deep inside him.

So, he punches Ian, hard on the arm.

“What the fuck’s your problem?!”

“That’s your sister, fuckin’ dick. And regardless of how crazy you Gallaghers are, none of you guys’ relationship is anywhere like that of mine with my fucked up family, especially with Mandy,” Now parked outside the Gallagher house, Ian’s attentive orbs is completely focused on that of Mickey’s, Debbie in the backseat trying to sniffle and wipe away her tears quietly. “Which means you can’t be yellin’ and carryin’ on like that to your little sibling. You, Lip and Fiona may be able to do that with one another, but for fuck’s sake, she’s only 16, and you know damn fuckin’ well that teenagers are some dumb shits, _we_ were dumb shits as teenagers. Give’er a break, I’m sure she realizes how much she’s fucked up, right, Firestarter?”

“Yeah, yea…thank you, Mickey. I’m sorry, Ian.”

“No, Debs, Mickey has a point…I-I guess I got so angry-”

“Forget about it, you don’t need to say anything, I was being dumb, one of my friends volunteered me to go out and buy some more drinks an-and when I told them I was underage, this stupid drunk idiot told his friend to go with me, a-and-”

“Debs,” Ian, after tightening his hands on the steering wheel so hard he hears it creak when Debbie mentioned there being drinks at this party, and her being at a _party_ in the first place since she was just supposed to be out with a couple of friends, relaxes when he realizes that he, Lip and Fiona, and even Carl started drinking at an even younger age, and just shakes his head. “I just want you to be safe, and I know you can take care of yourself, I mean how could you not, that in itself goes without sayin’, but there are a bunch of sick fucks out there and with you dressed like that, something could happen.”

All is silent for a few seconds before Ian notices the time and knows that he and Mickey have to go to work, seeing that Jimmy’s car is parked out front, which means both he and Fiona are home, he starts the car up again.

“So, let’s just forget, well not forget, but move on from what went down with that stupid asshole.”

“Yeah, I agree.” Debbie giggles out, eyes still a bit red and a mess from her makeup, but she’s no longer crying and she grabs up her purse, about to get out.

“Maybe I’ll even take you out for ice-cream later-”

Rolling her eyes, Debbie gets out of the car door, slamming it shut behind her, and walking up to the gate, she calls out behind her, “I’m not 8 years old, Ian!”

Ian laughs a little, and is about to drive off before one more thought occurs to him. “And throw that shitty outfit out!”

 _One thing about the Gallaghers, excluding Frank, is how easily they forgive one another after giving some long-ass speech about their feelings and some shit_ , Mickey thinks, a small smile on his face.

\-------------------------------

“Debs? Hey- what in the world are you-” Fiona greets her, eyes wide in shock and disgust.

“I’ve heard the whole “throw it out, don’t wear it ever again” spiel, so, spare me please.” With that, she stomps up the stairs.

Fiona’s head pulls back a bit in shock at the way she was just spoken to, hands going to her hips, and bottom jaw cocked to the side in annoyance.

“Whatever.” She shakes her head, arms thrown up in surrender, yet she gives her little sister’s dramatic exit one last worrying look and then continues back to the kitchen but not before pinning Frank an annoyed look and sigh, when she sees that he’s still laid out on the couch, in a drunken haze.

 _I can never catch a break_.

\----------------------------------

“Yo, Carl, you still comin’ to that crazy-ass party Saturday night?” Someone calls out to him.

Said boy in question is leaning over a counter in some girl’s house, her parents in Hawaii for the next couple of days, about to snort his third line of coke when he hears his name being called.

Holding one finger over his left nostril, he does a quick sniff across and after wiping his nose a couple of times, to lessen the tingly feeling he felt, he addresses the person calling out to him.

“Don’t know man, little bro’s been sick lately…”

“Aw, man c’mon,” the boys pleads, going over to some girl and grinding up against her, cracking up when she begins to flip out on him “I heard it gon’ be the best fuckin’ party ever, man. And you said that that the kid’s been feelin’ better, right, so what’s the problem?”

Carl weighs the pros and cons for a couple of seconds before making his decision, despite him being coked out of his mind. Nodding his head, he goes over and gives the dude a high-five, or well tries to with how fucked up they both are.

“Oh, and hey, I need you to hold somethin’ for me. Some friends a’mine been talkin’ about cops crackin’ down on drug dealin’s and dealers, raidin’ their houses and shit. You mind holding onto a couple of grams for me for a bit? I promise you’ll get a cut, I’ll even tell Ricky to break off a coupl’a Ben’s and you’ll even walk away wit’ a full wallet.”

“Nah, man, I can’t, not with the services people still comin’ over to the house, checkin’ on shit…I can’t man.”

“Just hide it, c’mon, you can do that, can’t you? I’m sure they ain’t gon’ check every fuckin’ nook.”

Carl once again, thinks about it, weighing the good and bad sides. Sure, it poses as a possible danger to Fiona and the rest of the family, but the guy’s right, those fucks at DCFS ain’t gonna get down on bended knees to check every nook and fucking cranny, especially not with how well Fiona’s been keeping to her responsibilities of making sure there isn’t any harmful shit in the house and that the kids are doing okay.

And plus, who the hell was he to turn down an opportunity to make some money?

“Yea…yeah, you got it. Give it here. I’ll hide it somewhere safe.”

Grabbing the little coke bag, Carl shoves it into his pocket, already having an idea of where to put it.

Looking around at some of the other people in the kitchen, most equally wasted and high, Carl sets his eyes on a slim girl, with big-ass tits and long brunette hair, wearing some revealing clothes, who seemed to be checking him out.

Making his way over, he puts all thoughts in his head to the back of his mind, sex directly at the forefront as he leads the girl upstairs.

\--------------------------------

“What’s with the name “Firestarter”?” Ian pulls his shirt down over his head, walking towards the register, while Mickey goes to flip the ‘Closed’ sign back to ‘Open’, fixing his own shirt and hair.

“What?”

“In the car, when you were givin’ your whole inspirational, grammy award speech,” at this, Ian’s graced with Mickey’s middle finger, “You called Debs, “Firestarter”. What’s the story behind that?”

“None a’ ya’ damn business, Firecrotch.” Casually flicking through the magazine on the counter, Mickey nonchalantly replies.

“Y’know, I find it a bit weird, her nickname is close to the nickname you have for me. You don’t find that weird, Mick?” Ian reaches over to the left of him, grabbing a donut from the display case, biting into it hungrily. Even though they just ate a couple of hours ago, Ian felt himself becoming hungry again. _I guess some fantastic sex does that to you_.

“You know what I find weird? That more donuts keep fucking disappearing from the case, after I just refilled them yesterday, and I now know why.” Linda appears out of nowhere, barging in through the door.

“Aren’t you s’posed to be-”

“Yea, I am supposed to be at my son’s middle school graduation, but y’see, I came back when I realized I left the camera upstairs. And you know what I find when I come to get it?” Ian looks away, avoiding eye contact and scratching the back of his head, while Mickey continues to flip through his magazine, not even reading the words. “To find the fucking store closed, 9 hours before it’s really supposed to close! Now, why is that? Do I have to re-install those damn expensive cameras again?”

She glares at the both of them before relaxing a bit, closing her eyes and forcefully letting out an exasperated breath, opening her mouth to talk, when she knows they aren’t going to say anything.

“You guys are dating, fine, whatever, you’re still young, and I know that means lots of sex, sex and more goddamn sex,” Ian squawks, while Mickey does his signature eyebrow raising move, Linda pushes forward, “But if you can’t handle it and get ahold of your nasty man-urges, then either find somewhere else to work or fucking wait until you’re out of my store. Got it? Good. Now, get back to fucking work and stop eating those goddamn donuts without paying!” She yells out, walking up the stairs, leaving Mickey and Ian staring at each other with disappointment.

“Shit, Mickey, we, well, I need this job, I know you do other shit around the city and you’re still working that pimping business with Kev. But we can’t have sex at home.” Ian says desperately.

“I could help you out with the job thing, but I don’t know about the whole sex-at-home thing either.”

“Thanks, but we still got a problem, _Christ_ , when did we get so addicted to screwin’ each other’s brains out?” Ian runs his hand over his head in contemplation and hears loud click-clacking.

“I mean it, no more donuts and no more closing the store for sex breaks!”

Mickey watches Linda leave and lets out an aggravated sigh.

“Fuck, why were you in such a rush? You couldn’t switch out the ‘Open’/’Closed’ sign with the ‘Back in 15 minutes’ sign. What the fuck?”

“What? You were just as eager as I was, Mick, don’t even try it.” Ian purses his lips to the side in disbelief, eyebrows furrowed low over his eyes.

“Alright, fuck off, what the hell are we gonna do?”

“Visit a therapist and tell her we’re nymphomaniacs?” Ian says seriously.

“Stop jokin’ around, Gallagher, if we can’t have sex here anymore, and we can’t have it over at the nuthouse because of how crazy shit is, where?”

“Calm the hell down, Mickey, what about the abandoned buildings? We haven’t fucked there in ages.”

Mickey shakes his head. Fucking in alleyways, in the dugout, and under that shitty school’s bleachers; Mickey had grown to dislike fucking outdoors. The thrill of it, getting into a little bit of exhibitionism is fun, but after a while it grew on him and became uncomfortable.

When it was hot out, having to slap at bugs and deal with the overwhelming heat blending in with that of the heat being generated as a result of extreme exertion was annoying as fuck. When it was cold, they had to deal with the freezing weather, which would nine times out of ten shrivel up both of their balls to the point it was damn impossible and painful to keep their hard-ons.

The positions were always the same, Mickey being bent over, having to constantly strain his back. And though he and Ian found an unoccupied mattress, clean enough in an alleyway somewhere, (Mickey grabbing some clean blankets from his house that he had to dig through the pits of hell to find to use as a bed sheet and a couple of covers), Mickey didn’t want to have to deal with being cold, since it was the middle of winter right now.

“Nah, I hate fuckin’ outside the house.” Mickey mutters out when a couple of customers file into the store.

Ian bunches his shoulders in surprise. “Since… _when_?!”

“‘Ay, you wanna keep it the fuck down? Not everybody needs to know our business…and since it got old and became a bitch to my back.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, baby?” Ian says softly, thinking back to how many times he bent Mickey over or had him contort his body in some insane way for maximum pleasure, now feeling a little bit guilty.

Mickey moves to stand beside Ian now when a customer comes up to pay.

“I told you, I ain’t some dumb broad who complains about stupid shit, I shut up and take it, fuck you gettin’ so emotional for? And whatever, we’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Ian wraps one arm around Mickey’s waist, pulling him towards him, planting a kiss on the blonde man’s nape, and giving back the short woman in front of him her change, ignoring her disgusted look.

“Fuckin’ problem, lady?” Mickey snarls when the woman lingers at the counter, and scoffs when she gives him an even dirtier look, then storms towards the door.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think so.”

\------------------------------------

“You’re coming to the party Saturday, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

A tinny voice comes from the speakers of the laptop set up on Debbie’s desk, two people appearing on the screen showing a chubby looking girl with a kid on her lap and a platinum blonde-haired girl, who is busy filing her nails.

“Yea, yea, yea, I’m still coming, calm your tits. Is he gonna be there?” Debbie asks eagerly, while texting on some guy on her phone.

“Of course he is, he’s DTF and so are you; it’s about time you lose that V-Card of yours, Debbie Gallagher.”

Looking down at her phone, Debbie feels a little tingle shoot through her at the sight of the Senior who goes to the high school, texting her all the things he plans to do to her the night of the party on Saturday. Getting over Matty, she can admit was hard, she felt he was her first love, but after a while of being bored with how slow he was taking things, wanting to wait until she was old enough, and with the persuasion of her friends, she broke it off with him.

She still has the poster of him hanging on her door, but she doesn’t know when or if she’ll ever take it down, she doesn’t even know why she’s never taken it down; every time she tries to, something tells her to leave it.

Despite all that though, Debbie was ready. Saturday night, she was losing her virginity to Ricky Maven and it was going to be the best night of her life.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the last smut scene for awhile. I don't want this story to just be filled to the brim with smut without a plot, so I'm going to lay off it for a bit, unless people like the scenes then whatever, but that's not the point of the story, even though I have no idea where I'm trying to go with it; I'm just along for the ride waiting to see where it goes like you guys.
> 
> And I know I'm drawing out this whole secrets thing but I'm trying to find the perfect moment for a couple of the big reveals.
> 
> Could've made the chapter longer, but it's been long enough and it was just time to post another one.

“Mmm… _sssss_..think ‘m ‘bout to _cum_ …ahh.”

Beneath the covers of Ian’s room, in his bed, Mickey lays on his back, Ian on top of him, moving slowly yet purposefully inside the tight heat of his boyfriend.

“Shit, Mick, already?” Ian slows down even more in his thrusting, wanting to draw out the pleasure since it’s been awhile since their last fuck.

Monday was when Linda dropped the bomb on them, putting an end to their “activities” in the freezer, and it was now Saturday morning, at around 3 A.M. Mickey had woke up with a raging hard-on a good 15 minutes ago, and with a swift punch to the ribs of the body laying next to him, Ian was awake and alert. After a heated, whispered discussion over whether or not they should fuck with Yevgeny, Liam and Carl in the bedroom with them, they finally just both said fuck it, stripping off each other’s clothes, both sliding completely under the covers and proceeded to tangle tongues heatedly; morning breath be damned.

“Mmhmmm, keep hittin’ that spot…ooohh, _fuck_!” Mickey’s voice went an octave higher once Ian began to up the tempo with the movement of his hips.

“Shh, babe,” Ian leans down giving Mickey a quick peck on the lips and moving downward, peppering kisses to his lover’s jaw-line, ending up at Mick’s red-tipped ear, where he nibbles the slightest bit on his earlobe. “Shit, I forgot how tight your ass is. It feels like…mm…forever since… _fuck_ …I’ve been in it, playing with your pussy so much.” Ian pants out.

Mickey grips onto Ian’s sweaty back as he tightens his legs around his waist, head thrown back against the pillows, breathing steadily increasing along with his moans. He opens his mouth to make some smart-ass remark in reply to Ian’s observation, but he’s rendered speechless when Ian lifts Mickey’s legs over his shoulders, allowing for deeper and precise access to Mickey’s prostate, making Mickey’s face go slack in pleasure and his eyes cross.

“Fuckin’ _Christ_! Ohh _hh_...IanIanIanIan…ssss, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, oh fuck, I.Am.Going.To.Fucking. _Cuuummm_.” Mickey sounds desperate, and when Ian pulls his head back from Mickey’s ear to tell him to be quiet, he sees that the Milkovich looks completely _debauched_.

Sweat beading all along his forehead, matted hair splayed out on the pillows, eyes closed, furrowed brows, teeth biting hard on his bottom lip with his hand working furiously beneath the covers between their gyrating bodies.

“You gonna cum, baby?” Ian presses his lips against Mickey’s, who’s frantically nodding his head, unable to speak with how his brain seems to be melting out of his fucking ears. “Mm, hold on.”

Ian pulls himself gently from Mickey’s stretched yet snug pink, little pucker, much to Mickey’s dismay, and shifts both of them onto their sides so that they’re now facing towards the bedroom door, Mickey’s back fitting perfectly into the grooved ridges of Ian’s abs. Lifting one of the older male’s muscled, milky-pale thighs, holding onto it in midair with his large hand, Ian takes his cock back into his hand, giving it a few strokes from tip to root before shoving it back into Mickey’s asshole in one harsh thrust.

“Oh, _fuck_ yeah…love it when you’re rough, Ian, mmpfh.” Mickey sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to try and muffle his moans when he becomes vaguely aware that he’s making quite the amount of noise. He really didn’t want to wake ‘Geny or either of Ian’s little brothers; it would certainly make for an awkward situation, and after getting caught by Yevgeny a few times, Mickey most definitely didn’t want to have to answer any more ridiculous questions about gay sex or his anatomy, which he’s sure Carl would have no qualms about participating in.

“Yeeahh,” Ian groans out gutturally, tongue slipping out of his mouth to lave over Mickey’s earlobe, while he moves his arm from its place wrapped around the smaller male’s leg, to circling it around Mickey’s waist, fingers moving to rub his clit furiously. “You love it when I give it to you like this, huh? Taking you from behind like the little fucking slut you are…”

“‘Ay, fu-fuck you, Ga-aaahh, _shit_ , Gallagher, I ain’t no fuckin’ slut.” Mickey spits out weakly.

Ian stops his thrusting completely, ignoring Mickey’s quiet exclamation of “what the fuck, Ian!” and pushes Mickey’s leg over hip, the other one lying between the red-head’s own legs, making Ian sit on his knees in front of his lover.

“What’s with all the switching, Firecrotch? I’m trying to fuckin’ get off- _ah_!”

Ian begins his thrusting again, but puts considerable amounts of force behind it, causing Mickey to slip up the bed every few centimeters.

“Fuck me, Mick? Is that what you said, huh?” Ian slams into Mickey like a madman, careless of the loud slapping sounds echoing throughout the room, probably even throughout the whole house, due to Ian’s hips making contact with that of Mickey’s blooming-red ass cheeks.

One of the larger man’s hands drifts downwards to Mickey’s semi-erect cock, giving it a couple of strokes, playing with the slit at the head, before venturing further down and shoving his middle and ring fingers within the drenched, leaking cove of Mickey’s cunt, beginning to plunge them in and out of his opening. He lifts the leg on the side of his hip up until it’s resting on his shoulder, allowing him easier access to Mickey’s cunt.

Mickey nearly howls due to the sensory overload he’s undergoing, but he snatches the corner of the bed sheets and pushes it into his mouth, now leading him to let out a constant stream of audible yet quiet “mm”’s with every thrust of Ian’s thick fingers and heavily veined cock.

Bracing one hand flat on one side of Mickey’s lolled back head, Ian leans his weight on that arm, using the balanced weight to deliver completely back breaking powerful thrusts, continuing to finger-fuck Mickey. After just driving his fingers in and out carelessly out of Mickey’s sopping pussy, he begins to curl them up inside of him with every inward push, and succeeds in punching that spot hidden deep within the blonde man’s pussy walls.

A few tears of extreme pleasure drop from Mickey’s ocean-blue eyes, both of them narrowing from trying to stay open through the onslaught of ecstasy. He wraps his hand around Ian’s forearm attached to the hand braced on the bed beside him, while the other one clenches on tightly to Ian’s moving forearm, holding on for dear life.

“Mm, that’s right, hold on, baby, _sssss_.” Ian feels his own eyes roll to the back of his head with how both of Mickey’s walls are squeezing around his dick and fingers at the same time. He could feel the burning, intense and white hot pleasure beginning to spread up from the tips of his toes signaling his urgency to cum.

Though having to stop or slow down a few times to regain his energy and catch his breath or whenever he was too focused on Mickey’s face his dick would slip out wetly, Ian kept at the dual stimulation to Mickey’s sensitive points, his arm working endlessly at pushing Mickey to his breaking point, as evidenced by the bulging veins on either of Ian’s arms.

Mickey begins whimpering and Ian knows that’s the tell tale sign of his oncoming orgasm. With every few whimpers, they begin to go a note higher, which Ian knows Mickey would normally feel embarrassed about but considering the fact that the man beneath him is damn near about to fall apart, he doubts he could really give a shit about how he sounds.

“Am I givin’ it to you good, baby? Shit, I can’t believe we held out this long.” Ian whispers hotly into Mick’s ear.

Ian, wanting to see Mickey explode, decides to start wrapping things up in case anyone comes looking for the source of noise emanating from within the confines of the house. But Ian’s pretty sure that somebody’s already awake with the sound of wet flesh smacking against each other, Mickey’s pleasured whimpers and Ian’s own low growls and drawn out groans.

He continues his thrusting within Mickey’s asshole but when he pulls his fingers out of his pussy, he forces them back in, and curls them, then leaves them there, making sure to press insistently on that spot.

Mickey’s legs tighten and go taut, his feet arching, toes curled in on themselves. Fingers dig into Ian’s arms, leaving shallow, red scratches behind and once again he’s left breathless from the earth-shattering, mind-bending orgasm Ian puts him through. Yanking his fingers out, knowing that Mickey’s on the brink, he begins to lightly slap at his clit and then roughly rubs it in tight, sloppy circles. Mickey’s body responds by jerking strongly, hips bucking up and down, confused as to whether it wants to get away from the overstimulation or thrive under it. Finally, after pushing one last time against Mickey’s prostate, still keeping up with his other ministrations, a dam bursts within Mickey’s body.

The rush of fluid shoots out, hitting Ian squarely in the chest, liquid getting on his face and some lands on his arms, while gravity forces the still-shooting liquid back down onto Mickey’s tightly wound and shaking body.

“ _Ugh_ , fuck, Mickey… _sss_.” Ian bowls over with the intense contractions of Mickey’s inner anal walls and he braces both hands against the mattress now, one hand completely soaked, his whole body dressed in sweat-beads with the amount of exertion put into their moment of passion, and roughly thrusts a couple of more times, drawing out his pleasure, before his hips stutter and jets of cum spurt out in a dense, bitter-filled load all around and in Mickey’s cavity.

One last satisfied groan and Ian relaxes, still keeping his body suspended above Mickey, who still seems to be experiencing the insane aftershocks of his orgasm.

Mickey’s letting out little sounds, almost as if he were extremely cold, about to die from hypothermia, yet Ian knows that he’s just trying to work through the crippling pleasure and relax his body. Mickey’s arms are trembling a bit, both of them bent up towards his chest, his fingers curled. Tears are still leaking from his eyes, some following the previous tear trails from before and others spreading out establishing their own marks on Mickey’s pale face.

A burst of pride surges through Ian as he knows that he’s the only one who can bring Mickey pleasure like this; pleasure like never seen before. Pleasure that he cannot and will not get anywhere else, even if he roamed around the world, offering up a million fucking dollars, Ian’s the only one. Pleasure that leaves one paralyzed and lethargic for the next few hours and pleasure that inhibits one’s ability to correctly function days afterwards; it definitely is an ego-booster.

But as much as Ian loves seeing Mickey all vulnerable and open like this, he sometimes feels a bit guilty that he renders his boyfriend completely motionless and speechless after a particular bout of heavy sex. Sometimes when Mickey insults him, especially in the middle of sex, a switch goes off inside of Ian. That instant he gets into the mentality that Mickey has to be punished somehow for his smart and flippant mouth, and the thought of punishing him just corrupts Ian’s mind to the point where he transforms into a fucking adrenaline-fueled beast; pumping in and out of Mickey like a starved tiger mauling a group of unsuspecting humans encroaching upon his territory.

“Baby, hey, look at me,” Ian leans down and kisses Mickey softly on his saliva-slicked lips, the slobbered blankets having now since fallen from Mickey’s mouth. “I’ve got you, just try and calm down a bit.”

Ian continues to pepper light kisses all along Mickey’s face, paying special attention to his supple lips. When Mickey weakly begins kissing back with just small pecks, Ian pulls back and sits on his haunches.

“Okay?” Ian asks rubbing his hands soothingly up and down Mickey’s downy-haired legs.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m good.” Mickey hoarsely replies, body now pliant against the sheets, though still twitching every few minutes.

“Alright, I’m gonna go get somethin’ to wash us up and I’ll get you some water, baby.”

Mickey just nods and tiredly closes his eyes, melting completely into the bed, boneless from the previous activity. Ian looks at him softly, adoration and love reflecting in his eyes and gives him one last kiss on his lips before leaving the room.

Barely even sparing a glance to Ian’s departure, Mickey, sated and feeling like he could float through the bed into the floorboards beneath him, can sense the lingering, yet unfamiliar emotion of guilt curling deep inside of his stomach. Though the guilt isn’t completely foreign, as he’s felt the heart-wrenching effects of it thinking on some of the things he could’ve prevented pertaining to Ian and his own screwed up Milkovich family tree, it was something as rare to Mickey as the usage of condoms for fuck’s sake. But he knows that sooner or later Ian will find out what he’s been hiding and he’s been dreading that moment; he’s been dreading it’s possible reveal since the first time it happened, and he wasn’t even _with_ Ian at that time.

Way in the beginning when he and Ian began their little “trysts” he thought that he could forget about what went down or at least just put it to the back of his mind, because, yeah, he can honestly say that he thought Ian was a bit slow on the uptake sometimes. That being a logical assumption, he also knew or made himself to believe that Ian Gallagher can never really instill the fear of God or remotely even intimidate anyone because of how he seems to always wear his heart on his sleeve, putting on display his vulnerability.

So, yes, Mickey believed that his secret could be locked away into the deepest pits of the fiery depths of that unforgiving place called Hell, yet how the fuck was he supposed to foresee the fact that Ian can be as malevolent and downright _terrifying_ as a psychotic serial killer? That ROTC training and his brief stint in the army definitely spit out a revamped version of what he knew of Ian Gallagher. That lankiness and dough-boy face, filled to the brim with thousands of freckles, gave way to a more toned form and somewhat of a chiseled face. His eyes weren’t even the same bright hazel-green anymore, they were darker and slightly more dimmed as if a few light bulbs within permanently blew out.

Especially now with this Bi-Polar bullshit his bitch of a mom had left as a parting gift on his already heavily-burdened shoulders, Ian was and still is definitely _not_ someone to fuck with.

Mickey had once watched Ian take a crowbar to someone’s face in broad fucking daylight, all because one of the douchebag’s apart of a rag-tag little group of raging homophobes had called both he and Ian “pole-smoking fags.”

Now, Mickey had rolled his eyes, usually he would have had his brass knuckles out already knocking a few teeth out of the dude’s mouth, but at that point, he just didn’t care as much as he used to. He expected Ian to just do the same, but when he felt the presence beside him suddenly feel as if it was ice cold, Mickey knew Ian wasn’t having any of it.

Ian had given the guy two good solid whacks across the face with a discarded crowbar he randomly found lying innocently on the ground. The dude’s friends or whoever the fuck they were just scattered and Mickey was shell-shocked for a couple of seconds before pulling Ian off of the gash-filled man. When asking Ian about it later, he had replied simply, “That’s what that piece of shit of a father called you, Mick.”

Combine Ian’s anger; anger at Monica, anger at Frank, anger at everyone and everything, mainly when going through that depressive episode, with that of his physique now, as well as his training, Mickey would never admit it aloud but he can at least admit that he doesn’t want to be on his boyfriend’s _real_ bad side, like _ever_. Sure, they’ve had the typical fights, nine times out of ten over something completely menial, screaming at each other and throwing some rare fists, but they always made up within 24 hours.

Even though that incident with the crowbar happened about three years ago and there were also a few more unexpected altercations few and far between then and now, and Ian is currently doing an ass-load better now that he has is medication under control and has been the last couple of years, Mickey is truly fearful on what Ian’s reaction will be if he ever finds out some things Mickey’s been hiding from him.

They’ve made such progress over the years with damn near _everything_.

Flashes of the many tough times they all had to push through, as well as the great and carefree moments that they’ve shared with one another and one another’s families, explode in Mickey’s racing thoughts-filled head and he closes his eyes to fight against the burning feeling of tears ready to make its trek down his cheeks.

“Hey, you good?” Mickey’s eyes flutter open and he tilts his head the slightest bit towards the figure looming over him.

Clad only in a pair of dark red sweatpants, Ian just looks fucking _gorgeous_ , like a ginger form of Adonis. Chiseled chest and rock hard abs displaying a heavy sheen of sweat as a result of the moon’s penetrating light crawling through Ian’s bedside window, his long and thick fingers wrapped around a sweating bottle of ice cold water encased within his calloused, yet miraculously soft and large hands, hair a darker orange than normal, sweat once again being the culprit, while his green eyes almost appear as luminous in the dull moonlight of the room, reflecting his worry over his boyfriend, along with the evident cloud of drowsiness beginning to make its way through.

 _Fuck_ , Mickey thinks, _I love him so goddamn much_.

Once Ian sits on the edge of the bed to give Mickey the water, Mickey reaches up, hand cupping the back of Ian’s neck, and yanks Ian down to his level to express what he rarely says in words. Ian lets out a surprised sound, but then quickly reciprocates, eyes rolling shut with the languorous feel of the kiss that Mickey initiated.

Massaging their lips against one another’s, using the briefest flicks of the tips of their tongues, Mickey pulls back after giving a couple of lasting pecks as if trying to wane himself off an addiction and stares Ian directly in the eyes, hand still cupping the back of his neck, while the other rests gently on Ian’s cheek.

And in that instant, Mickey makes a decision.

Using all his strength to pull himself up onto his elbows, feeling them tremble a bit, Mickey bites his lip, and rubs a hand over his face.

“Ian…I-”

“Mick, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it, I already know.” Ian smiles at him like he was just handed the world on a silver fucking platter and Mickey, as gay as it sounds, feels his heart skip a beat at the same time it plummets to his stomach and he numbly shakes his head.

“No, I…it’s not-”

“I love you, too, Mickey. Now relax so I can take care of you.”

Too tired to argue and silenced when Ian presses his lips against his one last time, Mickey slowly acquiesces to Ian’s demand, lying back down onto the bedding beneath him. Ian picks up the washcloth he set down while Mickey was zoned out earlier, and cleans Mickey down, placing a few loving, and feather-light kisses here and there, all over Mickey’s body.

Mickey lets his eyes drift close, shutting out the image of Ian kneeled over his body, worshipping it like he was trying to show his deepest gratitude and love, ignoring the pang in the pit of his stomach in favor of some peaceful sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

“Are you sure that everything is…working alright, Doctor?” Fiona struggles to find the right words when it came to talking about Liam’s condition.

She nor did the rest of the family still have any idea on what to label Liam’s medical condition as. He isn’t really considered to be brain damaged because of his ability to read, write, walk, and perform the basic functions of human life, outside of talking. He also isn’t mute; he can formulate sounds and say a couple of odd words here and there, but he can technically still speak, just not at the speed or comprehensibility of the average person.

Despite the many times everyone has told her that it’s not her fault and it never has been, that she just cracked under pressure, as it happens to the best of us, Fiona still feels she’s the one to blame for this brain tumor and seizure bullshit.

That fuck head Robbie and his stupid fucking drugs, Fiona wishes to this day that she should’ve done more than punch him and spit in his small, smug little face if she knew that his mere _presence_ into her life would have lead to her baby brother being put in harm’s way; lead her to where she is now, sitting in a doctor’s office trying to figure out if Liam will be okay and outlive the rest of the Gallaghers instead of the possibility of an early death.

“Well, Ms. Gallagher, we still don’t know for sure. The tests came back negative for any brain tumors or any other deformity dealing with his brain-”

“That’s good right? I mean, he should be fine then.” Fiona says, eyes wide in uncertainty yet at the same time unabashed hope, hands cupped together nervously in front of her.

“It sounds good yes, however if we don’t find the source of Liam’s seizures, I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse and worse until…you know.” The doctor explains, voice heavily coated in sympathy.

Shaking her head, trying to get a grasp on the vague explanation she was just provided with, Fiona determinedly pushes onward with her questions on the older woman across from her.

She’s around her mid-40’s to early 50’s, with her graying, brunette hair twisted tightly into a comely bun, fair-skinned face showing a few signs of aging yet otherwise she was an attractive, if a bit plain, woman. The woman’s light blue eyes focuses their attention onto the form centered in front of them when the form’s steady, and fighting to stay calm voice breaks through the stifling silence of the room.

“Okay…listen Doctor Marise, I need you to break it down to me better than that,” Fiona pulls herself to the edge of the concrete like chair, unclasping her hands and then placing them together palm to palm, making a soft slap into the room, and she shrugs her shoulders helplessly, “Because that’s not enough. That doesn’t help me, that doesn’t help my family, and that sure as hell doesn’t help Liam. We want him to get better. He fucking _deserves_ it. More than any of us on this whole planet _combined_. I need you to help us to help him. You can’t be cryptic like that and expect me to understand, okay? Quit the soft empathetic voice crap and just tell me straight up what is going on. So…please, what exactly does that mean, why isn’t the fact that you can’t find anything harmful good?”

Doctor Valerie Marise stares at the young woman in front of her and what she sees breaks her heart but before it could completely be rendered as broken, it stitches itself back together quickly with what she soon catches a glimpse of. Thick, dark brown hair falling in waves around her face, lacking in luster, body dressed in a simple get-up of dark wash, tight skinny jeans, faded low-top converse, and a heavy jacket, a thin raggedy-looking scarf wrapped precariously around her pale neck completing the look.

Valerie could care less about the young woman’s choice of clothing, life isn’t a fashion show, but the look on Fiona’s face just reminds her why she chose to put aside her skepticism about young Liam’s case in the beginning and just do her job respectfully. When she first was assigned to the case of Liam Gallagher, she had read through his file and what she learned was disconcerting; exposure to cocaine at an early age due to the irresponsibility of his guardian and when she met his guardian, that being Fiona, Valerie looked upon her with nothing but intense disdain.

Whenever Fiona, or any of the Gallagher siblings really, would ask her a question she would be as succinct and as cold to them as possible so she wouldn’t be in their company for longer than need be.

But after a while, the doctor visits, the rush to the emergency room whenever Liam’s condition starts acting up, she witnessed exactly how a family should be and she realized how close-knit the Gallagher family truly was with one another. In the emergency room situations, they would all sit outside in the waiting room, sometimes even sleeping there, reluctant to leave Liam there all by his lonesome.

The woman perched in one of those pesky, uncomfortable chairs before her has a look of complete determination on her face. Valerie can see how much her little brother means to her, despite the fact that Liam’s only her half-brother, she and all of the Gallagher siblings treat Liam as if he’s truly one of them, as if they were all born from the same mother and father.

Valerie knows that if it came down to it, Fiona is definitely the type who would race through all the way to the ends of the Earth, regardless of blood, sweat and tears, to save her loved ones, and Valerie can whole-heartedly respect that.

Standing up and venturing around the side of her desk to lean against the edge of it, Valerie starts talking, taking Fiona’s advice to quit sugar-coating and talking to her like she was a fucking five year old.

“Liam’s unfortunate experience with the cocaine did some type of damage to him,” Fiona nods eagerly at this, understandingly, and glad that Doctor Marise isn’t dancing around the fucking edges anymore. “Now, in the past he was administered to the hospital due to his unresponsive state and he came out a few days later newly with the problem of speech, but otherwise okay. These seizures over these past few years are the source of a problem that we aren’t particularly sure we’ve come to figure out yet. Just because we can’t find anything though, doesn’t necessarily mean that nothing is wrong, because something is.”

“If these seizures continue, they can and _will_ cause permanent harm to Liam’s brain. The human brain is like a five-pound cup of Jell-O, and when it’s put under constant and tremendous, almost violent convulsions like that of what Liam is experiencing, then this could cause any one of his lobes to become effected detrimentally. The four lobes are the Frontal, Parietal, Temporal and Occipital,” Valerie continues when she notices the blank look on Fiona’s face. “The Frontal Lobe is the essential lobe to perform basic everyday activities, such as motor skills, reasoning and cognition. Parietal Lobe rules over that of sensory information; pain, pleasure, touch, things like that. Dealing with that of anything auditory is the Temporal Lobe which also involves the storage of any type of memories. The Occipital Lobe-”

“Deals with our vision, right?” Fiona asks curiously.

“Right,” Valerie smiles approvingly, but then it fades when she breaks it down further. “I’m sure you can figure out quite easily what it would mean for Liam if any of these parts become the victims of anything traumatic. We already suspect that there’s a bit of damage to his Frontal Lobe because of his inability to socialize at a level like that of kids his age.”

There’s a loud intake of breath and a slight snivel from Fiona within the small space of the blandly decorated office, as she discreetly wipes a couple of tears from her slightly red-rimmed eyes and fixes the Doctor in front of her with a lost stare.

Doctor Marise stares pointedly at the floor to give Fiona a couple of seconds to collect herself, but then she’s shocked when she hears Fiona speak up again, this time in a nonchalant, no nonsense tone, hands doing a quick run-through of her wild-like hair to push it back.

“Alright, well, if we want to avoid that, what do we gotta do?”

\-------------------------------------------

“Shit.” Fiona mutters exasperatedly under her breath getting into the passenger seat of the truck, slamming the door closed behind her.

“Everything alright?” A deep, rumbling voice questions smoothly from the left.

Getting herself situated, a few seconds of tense silence filled the car, until Fiona voiced her thoughts.

“No…no, it’s really fucking not, Charlie.” Fiona scoffs out putting her face into her trembling hands.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it.” Starting up the car, Charlie pulls out of the parking lot of the Doctor’s and makes his way onto the road.

“It’s just…Liam...”

“Yeah? He doing alright? What’d the Doc say?”

Fiona lets out a deep sigh, settling back against the leather encased seat behind her. “She said they didn’t find anything wrong with Liam’s brain but that doesn’t mean we’re out of this whole shit storm yet. Then she talked about the lobes of the brain or whatever and how they’ll be permanently damaged if these fucking seizures continue and-and he could lose his-his-his fucking h-hearing and-”

“Hey, hey, just, calm down and take a-”

“How the fuck can I, Charlie?! Huh?!” Fiona screams, whipping her head furiously in the direction of the man behind the wheel. “There’s something wrong with my baby brother, no one fucking knows why and I can’t help him because of it! I mean, Jesus,” letting out a bitter on the verge of being hysterical laugh, Fiona bites out, “I’m his fucking guardian and right now I’m about as useless as Frank and Monica-”

“Stop it.”

Fiona reluctantly ceases with her self-deprecation, eyes slowly widening at Charlie’s scathing tone.

“Stop with that bullshit right now. I’m not going to preach to you, ‘cause it’s not like I’m a saint either but I’ve known you for six…seven years, and damn it, Fiona Gallagher, you are nothing like those two. _Nothing_ like them. All those crazy ass stories you’ve told me over the years about your family and the crap that you were all put in or that you put yourself in, compares not one bit to how Frank and Monica treated all of you, especially you, Fiona. Sure, there was a bit of irresponsibility on your part sometimes,” at Fiona’s raised eyebrow, Charlie shrugs a shoulder, “alright, maybe a _lot_ of irresponsibility, but for fuck’s sake, everyone ends up being irresponsible at some point or another in their life, it’s not living if you don’t fuck up every once in a while, and not a lot of them have the same responsibilities that you’ve had on your shoulders at your age.”

Fiona turns her head towards the window, not wanting him to see her eyes start to water, still listening to the man behind her.

“Now, it’s not something to condone some of the shit you or each of your crazy siblings pulled, but look, shit happens. And you take it how you wanna take it, because I’m honestly not trying to be an insensitive asshole but believe me, I _do_ know a thing or two about douche-bag and incompetent parents and I _do_ know about making some stupid-ass decisions that I just fucking _knew_ I was going to regret later. It sure as hell ain’t to the extent of your family but it’s enough to make me realize that no one is to be blamed for anything that goes wrong in your life.

“At the end of the day, it’s all _you_. It’s all about what and who you allow to get under your skin, and how you deal with it. You can choose to say “fuck you” or “boo-hoo”, and that first one is more your style, Fiona. It’s about the choices you make. Something awful could’ve happened to you in the past, but it’s not anyone’s fault how you turn out in the future because you can choose not to become some psychotic murderer or some suicidal basket case, and if that’s a person’s outcome, then it’s their fault. They let that dark time consume them, instead of trying to fight against it and get better, get stronger, seek _help_.”

“Charlie…Charlie, please tell me there’s a point behind this shit ‘cause I’m seriously two seconds from knocking your teeth out of your damn mouth.” Fiona whispers dangerously, wiping her teary eyes.

“The point is,” Charlie starts patiently, “that you are a damn good guardian. That all the shit you went through and all the shit Monica and Frank put you guys through when you were younger, could’ve turned you into a bitter, drunk or a strung-out druggie or the next Jack the Ripper for all we know, but it didn’t, did it? You didn’t let that hold you back from becoming what you are today, a tough saleswoman who takes no shit off anyone; a woman who still does her best to take care of and protect her three littlest siblings…all of your siblings, as a matter of fact. Don’t confuse traits with character, Fiona, because you’re not them, and you never will be. Just ‘cause all of you guys have the same tendency to do some fucked up shit doesn’t necessarily mean that that’s who you are, we all fuck up and it doesn’t mean anything really. It’s not about age, it’s not about personality, it’s not about where you live, it’s not about any of those things, it’s about you and what you choose to do what’s right or what’s wrong. And though I’ve never properly met any of your siblings, I guarantee that the same goes for them; it has to if someone like you raised them.”

“Thought you weren’t gonna preach?” Fiona laughs out wetly, another couple of tears being swiped away by her fingertips.

“Yea, but you needed to hear it.”

They both fall silent after that. Fiona mulling over what Charlie said and Charlie running a hand through his thick, dark hair, before scratching at his salt-and-pepper colored facial hair that attractively covered the lower part of his face.

Fiona glances at Charlie out of the corner of her eyes taking in the man that she sees. Healthy head of thick, dark hair streaked the tiniest bit with grey. Dark hazel-colored eyes, the color of melted chocolate hidden behind solid black, square-framed glasses. Strong nose, not too big and not too small, beneath it his mustache, that perfect combo that doesn’t make him seem like a pedophile or like a douche. The lower part of his cheeks, connecting from his side burns and ending a little ways past his jaw is dressed in something that was much thicker than a five o’ clock shadow, but thinner than a full grown beard. A sexy soul patch covered his chin, which completed the rugged look of Charlie Peters.

Fiona knows she definitely would want to feel that sparse-like hair rubbing against the insides of her thighs because she just has the feeling that that shit would be one of the most amazing sensations she’s ever felt in her life.

His body was a bit on the lanky side, but he was tall and Fiona’s sure that a man like Charlie would have some type of corded-like muscle beneath his baggy clothes, especially if he’s lived in the Southside for most of his life.

She couldn’t deny that Charlie Peters is a very attractive man, though he’s much older than her and she already has someone, she knows that if things were different, she’d most likely being riding the fuck out of his dick right about now.

When she first met him at that diner that Gail, her P.O., had brought her to help her get back on her feet after that brief time in that shitty correctional facility, she just thought him to be another obstacle that she had to get through in order to get her shit together, and she never gave him a second glance after she gave him her honest gratitude for accepting a fuck-up like her to work in his diner.

But after a couple of months, she noticed that he was a kind and warm-hearted man, despite that black-ink scorpion tattoo displayed on the side of his neck and the almost no nonsense tone he gave her when they first introduced. She began opening up to him after about a year of working at the same diner, whenever shit went awry at home and she needed someone other than her siblings, Jimmy, Veronica and Gail to talk to. Though Gail was older than the rest of them, and Fiona liked talking to and with her because she could relate being that she was also from the Southside, Fiona felt even more comfortable talking with Charlie, and she could never explain it. Maybe it was because he seemed safe, and his deep and warm voice just caressed her ears and her whole body in a way that just feels so _good_.

She was no longer working at Charlie’s diner but he is still a part of her life. Fiona doesn’t push for Charlie to meet her family and friends, and Charlie doesn’t ask. He just picks her up and drops her off wherever she needs to go, he listens when she vents, and they’ll occasionally hang out. He _helps_ her help herself, which was one of the main things she needed, especially those few years ago because she was honestly lost and confused, like she was a scared little high school girl all over again trying to figure out how to take care of her five younger siblings all by herself.

She loves Jimmy, she does, but he can’t give her what Charlie does.

Space when she needs it; someone who she can just let go with and they won’t say anything that’s negative or trivial, someone who’ll just sit there and be her crying shoulder, her confidant.

No one besides Gail knows about Charlie and their friendship. Fiona loves having something for herself where no one out of her family and friends will judge her for it. Gail always has that knowing look in her eyes when she witnesses her and Charlie’s interactions with one another, but Fiona ignores it and Charlie’s oblivious to it.

Fiona doesn’t know much about Charlie’s background and she doesn’t ask. She hopes one day he’ll open up and share something but for now she’s content with their relationship.

“What’s on your mind?”

She registers Charlie’s question in her thought addled-mind and answers teasingly.

“Just thinking about one of your earlier comments and how wrong you are.”

“Oh yeah? Where was the discrepancy?”

“When you said that none of us’ll turn out to be like Jack the Ripper.”

Both of Charlie’s eyebrows raise and he chances a look over at Fiona’s smiling, yet blotchy face from the few tears she let slip, before turning his gaze back to the road in front of him.

“Why? Am I going to find out you hide bodies underneath your floorboards or something?”

Letting out a giggle, which makes Charlie crack a small smile, happy that the depressing moment was over, Fiona says, “No! I’m talking about Carl.”

“Oh right, the famous Carl who would put his toys in the microwave and torture kids in school for fun. I guess he might be an exception to my wise revelation.”

Fiona chuckles and then lightly punches Charlie in his arm.

“Hey, unless you want your soon-to-be-another-Michael Myers- little brother to end up without a big sister, all body parts stay on your side of the car.” Charlie mocks, holding a hand up in weak defense.

They both let out a laugh before reality sets in and silence trickles into the truck once again.

“I’m sure he’s a good kid.”

“Yeah…yeah he really is. All of them are good kids.” Fiona mutters quietly, clenching her fists in her lap.

She doesn’t look up when a large, warm hand covers her own, but she closes her eyes and squeezes the appendage, as if drawing from it strength to make it through this shitty time.

“I’m not going to give you false hope, Fiona, but what I can say is that whatever you need me to do to help you with Liam, I will and I’m sure the rest of your family will help as well. Liam’s in the best hands that he can possibly be in right now. Trust and believe that.”

\--------------------------------------------

Sitting up gingerly in bed, Mickey winces sharply at the soreness radiating from his legs as well as the two caverns between them. Ian really fucked the fuck out of him early this morning and the uncomfortable way that Ian had roughly contorted his body is now making its debut to make Mickey’s body feel as if he was hit by a 20 ton truck.

Groaning lowly in pain, Mickey reaches his hand out to hold onto the edge of the bedside table, inhales a deep breath before quickly and painfully lurching his body up onto two feet. Unfortunately, it seems that his nerves and brain cells are still drunk off of the dopamine overload they experienced just a few hours earlier, since the message isn’t received properly to operate the simple task of standing, and Mickey stumbles a bit, before falling onto his knees.

“Fuck!” He cries out, before he bites his lip harshly and forces his legs to get steady under him, as he gets to his feet, still holding onto the edge of the table.

He lets out an annoyed sigh, and notices the alarm clock angrily displays 1:39 P.M. and he lets out another sigh. He has to get down to the Alibi in 21 minutes and then he has to go and do some stupid ass sewage shoveling job at 3:00. Him and Ian really have to stop sleeping in like this, ‘cause sooner or later it’s going to cost them their jobs.

Mickey bends over letting slip a pathetic whimper of pain, to pick up his boxers but then when he realizes he has to actually pick up his legs and place them inside the respective holes, he throws them right back down and instead chooses to heavily limp to the bathroom butt naked, careless of the possibility that someone’ll see him.

Glad that the room was empty when he woke up, which means that everyone’s either downstairs or out and about somewhere, Mickey silently gives his thanks and glances back at Ian’s splayed out body beneath the sheets, shaking his head when he realizes that the younger man is still knocked out.

Making it safely to the bathroom, he proceeds to start the shower and get ready for his undoubtedly about to be a fucking hard and tiring day.

\--------------------------------------

Ian blearily opens his eyes and lethargically sits up. He looks around the empty room and furrows his brows before the sound of running water makes its way to his ears and as a mischievous smile slowly crawls onto his face, he slips off the bed and pulls on his boxers before padding out of the room to the closed bathroom door and silently letting himself in.

He yanks back the shower curtain and instead of being graced with a litany of curses grumbled out in a rough voice, he’s instead welcomed with a loud and very _female_ shriek.

“IAN!”

“Shit, Debs, I thought you were Mickey!”

“Close the fucking curtain and get the fuck out!” She screeches; face matching her hair and hands covering her body.

“Right,” Ian cringes at her screaming and immediately let go of the curtain and apologizes. “Sorry Debs, but you haven’t seen Mick around have you?”

“Ian, if you don’t leave right now…”

“Alright, alright…Jesus.”

Now looking at the closed bathroom door, Ian scratches his head in embarrassment over what just happened but the recent incident is replaced by the wonder of where his boyfriend is.

He ventures back into the bedroom and plops down onto the bed. A white slip of paper catches his attention in his periphery and he leans over to pick it up, worry soon chased away by amusement; he could recognize Mickey’s messy scrawl anywhere.

_Had to go down to Alibi, later I have to go do some shitty job for the city._

_Catch you later._

_By the way, next time we fuck and you wanna turn into a beast on crack, make sure I don’t have to actually WORK the next morning, asshole._

_Mick_

Ian laughs and gets up once he hears the bathroom door open.

“Hey, Debs, sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it, Ian, just knock next time.” Debbie cuts him off as she plods down the hallway to her room. “Let Fiona know I’m going out later.”

With that, she slams her door.

Ian has his eyebrows raised and wonders what the fuck’s his sister’s problem. Shrugging his shoulders and blaming it on puberty, Ian goes to clean himself up.

\-----------------------------------------

“The fuck’s going on here?”

The women stop what they’re doing and turn to look at the rather small and irate man standing in the entryway of the room.

“Daddy, daddy! Mommy’s f’wends like me! See!”

Pushing his way out of the circle of scantily dressed women surrounding him, Yevgeny runs over to his father, colliding into his legs, face covered in different colored lipstick.

“What the fuck- where’s Svetlana?” Mickey yells, looking over his happily, smiling son.

“Right here; what seems to be problem?” Svetlana nonchalantly demands, walking into the room and giving Yevgeny a kiss on the cheek, adding one more lip print onto the boy’s face.

“Are you outta your fuckin’ mind?! Why’s he here? And why are your cum-guzzlin’ girlfriends kissin’ and huggin’ all over him like that?”

“’Geny wanted out of house, too boring, so he called me and I tell Kevin and he go and get him to bring him here, since you and Orange Boy like to sleep day away.” She said simply, while gesturing her hands towards the women to let them know to go back to work.

“So you bring him here where he can see all of you choking on puny cocks? Are you fuckin’ serious right now?”

“There’s barely anyone here, stop acting like little bitch.” Svetlana turns around and goes to talk with Nika.

Mickey had to walk away before he punched his ex-wife right in the fucking face. Grabbing Yevgeny’s little hand, he stomps out of the room and downstairs into the open room of the bar, making sure to glance around for any sign of Veronica before he screams,

“Kevin! Are you some kind of idiot?!”

Kevin, who’s talking with Tommy, snaps his head up with confusion etched onto his features.

“What’s the problem, Mick?”

“You picked Yevgeny up without asking me first and then you bring him _here_ and let him go upstairs with Svetlana and the whores? Fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Well, she is Yevgeny’s mother too.”

“She’s a fuckin’ whore!” Mickey damn near shrieks in rage, ignorant of his son’s presence still lingering beside him.

“Whoa, don’t you think you should watch your language? Your son’s still here, man.” Tommy points out nodding his head towards the silent boy who looks on the verge of tears.

“Oh, Christ, see what you did, you overgrown Jolly White Giant? Come on, ‘Geny, let’s get you back to the house.” Mickey says the last statement lowly so as to prevent the waterworks from flowing.

“No! I wanna stay wi’h Mommy n’ K’vin n’ Tommy!” Yevgeny snatches his hand from his father’s grip and runs over to the bar stool and tries to hop on it, getting help from Tommy who sits him up there easily.

“Yevgeny, this is no place for you-”

“I don’t care! I hate sleeping there! I hear funny noises and las’ night I’n was hurtin’ you, daddy and you were cryin’-”

“What?!” Both Kevin and Tommy exclaim at once, every patron of the bar now glancing at them in interest.

Mickey’s face becomes flushed and he lets out a weak, “What?”

“Does Ian hurt-”

“He’s fuckin’ confused at what he saw, you really think some shit like that would go down between us? Shut up.” He directs his last statement at Tommy who was about to say something about his track record and beating people up.

He’d never, _ever_ put his hands on Ian and he knows the same goes for his lover. And if they did put their hands on one another, it was always in a joking manner and nothing serious. Mickey’ll admit times where their arguments have gotten intense and one of them would punch or slap the other, but it would never escalate to the point where it was _abuse_ and it turned into something that happened frequently.

Mickey forever regrets when he beat the shit out of Ian all those years ago because of his own selfishness and cowardly feelings and he just remains grateful that Ian took him back, especially when Mickey discovered how much the redhead honestly means to him.

Tommy catches on in a second and tries to hold in his laughter.

Kevin, still confused, looks to Mickey to Tommy to Mickey again, whose face is steadily getting redder and redder before he too catches on.

“Ohh, well shit, kudos to Ian, getting you to cry during sex? He must’ve been dicking you good-”

Catcalls and whistles are soon heard throughout the establishment to Mickey’s horror.

“Shut the fuck up! ‘Geny…you can stay, just stay down here and don’t go up those stairs. Kevin, fucking watch him.”

Mickey grumbles as he walks towards the door, his head tilted down a bit in embarrassment, silently plotting Ian’s death in his head when he gets to the Gallagher house.

“”Can you watch him for me, Kevin?” Yeah, sure I’d love to, Mick.” Kevin calls out behind Mickey.

Sticking up his middle finger, Mickey storms out the door, getting away from the laughter and mocking calls still emanating from within, and stalks to his car.

\------------------------------------------------

A few hours later, Mickey trudges up the steps to the backdoor of the Gallagher house, ready to just collapse into bed and sleep the rest of eternity off.

That sewage job was the absolute fucking worst. He and ten other people, ranging from nearly every height, age and gender, spent what seemed like a lifetime shoveling out loads and loads of waste out of a sewage system that was so backed up, it was fucking with the nearby houses’ pipes or some shit like that.

Mickey could care less at this point.

He got his money and before he got back into his car to drive the 30 minute drive over here back to the Gallaghers, he stopped by his employer’s office and asked if he could add another person onto his employee list. The greasy asshole said he’d think about it and get back to him, to which Mickey had to bite his tongue lest he wanted to mouth off and lose his own spot on the employee list.

He stopped by his own house to take a long and extra clean shower because even though they had to wear hermetically thick suits, he still felt dirty as fuck.

Before he opened the door, he heard a car door slam shut and he stuck his head around the side of the house, seeing a good amount of people all piled in a piece of shit car, though he couldn’t make out faces, he knows that they were here for one of the Gallaghers.

Shaking his head, he makes his way inside, and the picture of Fiona slumped over the kitchen table, a cigarette loosely being held betwixt her index and middle finger, hands holding up her head on either side of her wild-looking hair, causes him to raise one of his eyebrows.

“’S matter with you?”

Shrugging off his jacket, Mickey hangs it up and then tiredly walks over to the fridge, pulling out some Orange Juice and pouring himself some.

“…Debs.” Comes the muffled reply.

“What about her?”

“She’s going out…wouldn’t tell me where. Think we screamed at each other for a good 10 minutes before Ian came down and had to physically hold me back from trying to strangle my baby sister.”

“Shit…that serious, huh?”

Sure, he’s knew that Lip and Ian would throw blows and have all-out brawls with one another, specifically that one time where they fought at the encouragement of Peg Gallagher, their grandmother, over some bullshit or another, but it’s the first time any of the other siblings tried to really put their hands on one another.

For as long as Mick’s known them, outside of Lip and Ian, the Gallaghers don’t resort to physical violence with one another, and if they do it’s rare and usually done when someone does or says something incredibly stupid. The screaming arguments were nearly seen on a daily basis but the Gallaghers are way too close for shit like what him and Mandy used to do, or even Mickey, Mandy and the rest of their siblings used to do.

“Yea…”

“Well, you should’ve put her in her place; you’re the big sister and the guardian.”

“Not everyone needs to rely on violence to try and help someone or solve something, Mickey.”

“Well clearly you do. I like her, but she’s been a bit crazy lately, her and Carl. Him walking around here, eyes always red and talking shit like he owns something. He’s barely even here anymore. You don’t need to beat them but show them some tough fuckin’ love. Screamin’ ‘til your lungs burst ain’t gonna solve nothin’.”

Fiona takes a drag off the cigarette, giving Mickey a contemplating look, her eyes squinting from the smoke. She does recall noticing the slightest bit of surprise and fear in Debbie’s eyes when she lunged at her, maybe Mickey had a point. There’s no way she’d ever beat her little siblings, but she should take into consideration the idea of showing some discipline, maybe she’ll even ask Mickey for some ideas. But right now, she’s just _tired_ , exhausted, and she can tell Mickey feels the same.

Stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray, Fiona slowly stands up.

“Ian’s upstairs with Liam. Lip’s probably at your place with Mandy and I have no idea where the fuck Jimmy or Carl is.”

Mickey furrows his brows.

“Where’s ‘Geny?”

“Oh, he’s staying the night with Kev and V and the twins; something about him hating the funny noises and how Ian was hurting you last night.” Fiona gives Mickey an amused look.

“Christ,” putting his head in his hands, Mickey runs them through his hair, “he’s never gonna forget that shit. I think we may have actually scarred him this time.”

“”This time”?” Fiona questions, “You two have sex in front of him often?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

Raising her hands at Mickey’s defensive tone, Fiona assuages him, “Calm down, Mick, you get so defensive so fucking quick, just relax.”

“Yeah, well, I hope you know those funny noises he was talking about wasn’t about me and Ian, it was you and that pussy that you’re with.”

“Me and Jimmy?”

“Yea, you and that fuck-head. You guys and your fuckin’ can be heard all the way in New York or some shit, it’s so fuckin’ loud. You think you dumb-asses can keep that shit down from now on?”

“Oh please, Mick, stop being so dramatic.” Fiona rolls her eyes and makes her way up the stairs, rolling them once again when she hears Mickey follow her and complain again.

“I’ll tell you what, keep that nasty shit down and I’ll help you with your psychotic little brother and sister.” Mickey bargains seriously.

Fiona stops and wonders how Mickey knew that she was going to ask him for some advice when it came to Debs and Carl, but it then makes sense since Mick’s the one who suggested the whole thing anyway. Though she was still a bit sore over how Mickey acted towards her a few weeks ago when everyone walked in on him and Ian, they could still respect each other and they genuinely like each other, neither just wanted to admit it.

“Fine, deal.” She holds out her hand and Mickey takes a step back in the hallway in shock.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not, Debs and Carl are more important than some bad sex so why not?”

“Ha! I knew that fucker sucked in bed, he looks like the type who’s all talk and no bite.”

With that, they shake hands and Fiona doesn’t even let Mickey’s insult about her boyfriend get to her. She knows why she hasn’t really been satisfied lately and it’s no one’s fault but hers, and no one else needed to know.

“Yea, whatever, see you later…and Mickey?”

Mickey, on his way to Ian’s room after they sealed the deal, turns back around to face the young woman standing in the hallway in question.

“Thanks.”

Nodding his head, Mickey turns back around and opens the door, closing it quietly behind him when he’s greeted with the sight of Ian lying on his back, Liam tucked into the side of him, his body facing away from the bedroom door, clutching onto one of ‘Geny’s stuffed toys, both sleeping soundly.

A small and soft smile secretly makes its way onto Mickey’s face and he figures that his rant to Ian can wait a few hours.

Stripping out of his jeans, and shirt, just leaving himself in his boxers, Mickey lets the clothing drop before reaching into the drawers beside him and grabbing one of Ian’s shirts to slip over onto himself.

Lifting the newly cleaned sheets, which he scoffs at because at this point he and Ian are gonna end up sleeping in a bed without any sheets if they have to keep washing them because of his annoying ability, Mickey slips in beside Ian, who stirs the slightest bit, before opening his eyes, his husky voice filling the small space between them.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. You okay?” Mickey murmurs, leaning over to give Ian a sweet and tender peck on his mouth before pulling back.

“Mm, yea, why wouldn’t I be?” Ian hoarsely asks, licking his lips, already missing the feel of Mickey’s plump, yet chapped lips. Ian’s arm goes around Mickey to rest on his lower back, hand reaching under the shirt to rub softly at the smooth skin, Mickey letting out a soft sigh.

“I don’t know, just thought I’d be a nice boyfriend and ask.” Mickey really didn’t feel like bringing up the incident about the about-to-be-bitch-fight between the two Gallagher sisters that Ian had put an end to before it could begin. They were all just too comfortable at the moment.

“What about you? You sound exhausted.” Turning his head towards Mickey and looking down at him he sees the smaller man’s eyes half-lidded, body lax against Ian’s side.

“Yeah…just a really long day. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Placing his head on Ian’s slowly rising and falling comfy-looking chest, and reaching out an arm to run his hand over Liam’s mini-fro, he then brings the arm back to wrap around Ian’s waist, ready to settle down for a nap.

“Mmkay.” Mickey feels Ian kiss the top of his head before he too settles into the bed and lets sleep reclaim him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case some people are unaware, Charlie Peters is the dude who appears in 4x12 'Lazarus'; Jeffrey Dean Morgan plays him and Charlie owns that diner that Gail Johnson, Fiona's P.O. got her a job at.
> 
> Didn't mean to focus a chunk of this chapter on Fiona or take away from Gallavich screen time, but it had to be done.
> 
> Everything will be more focused on Ian and Mickey from after this chapter.
> 
> Unless people are truly curious to see more screen time of the other characters and couples, let me know because those scenes will be brief as hell from this point on.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
